








% $ 


=* aV </> 

AV </> 

A «> 




^ *' * * s s , <* '0 * X * 

*> °o &\'LtfvL%*+ < 

< J" x M ' -> 2 -, * ■ >■'-. V\ 

* ' ^rS " ^ r 

K c* x o q. 


% 9 - v? v ■*• 

O i ^~ts£A/ v . >> r / . o A p -, f, ^’CtA' . 

„ '‘2*. » . I 1 ’ ' , %- ‘••so’ C° v • „ '^ *’"■'” 

v *»/ o v-. s \^-v > A 0 ‘ * ' c* 

V V, .v, •*, A* *W’-> r *•„ w. 

% , Wa ./ • %WV * v V .*% ^ 

^ o°V 11% %• A -%^,. % °o 0° %' 

* '%. y*' =«^J 0 l ' ■>• „\ - 

^ > „ < 7 W^a^ s * o o • 


V 




k 0o x. 


k* 1 - w » A 

r -hr * -%V^ * p..’ 

Q) & h -> A Vj i^y 

v s * * , a n 0 ■ p> v * 0 

' s . ' /, *9 * x 0 /■ o 

" & //&&&*'• : M 

■?% 1% : V * 

o . v ■“ ,A 



'% 


•V 


' 


i/ , v‘ , .,'r ? •>*. wjrw^ 

» ' • -i •?{* s ' a /• 

y o » k * •!> -V , 

^ C° c <, O- r 0 v v 

, 0 . 0 s- 

J- ■>* \ ^ 


■ ' .# 
s S X) <* 

o 0 ''11L% %> 



% £ 


.0° 

' »’ *»f •%> 

^ A%6? « %. V 

^7? s^% 1# 

* * V? ve- > %V v -^ 

■'■ - “V r y y 

.<0 ... < ^ * 0 * k+ A M r ^ /7 

,<V C 0 N C * 

</" 

■Cl 


o 


x ov • ^ 

% o'* .' £0 ^; %• ^ ,° ■’dr 


^'VK : \S^ S > ’ +■ < r^/-/>W ' 

’ - ° y°\ ' *»/V * *• '*'>!, k.. f// 

1 « .& a% A f %W%, ^ %■ ,\, * ^ 

; > v ^ v// 



W; / '\ : 

^ 0 » k * -<\ - 3 , ' 7 

■f* A' c 0 N r; 4 r? o 

^ ■’ 0 

. = ; '% o'* : 

x° X ~f, * 

• ^ oT ^ X 

o o'i y% 2 a _o 



a 1 A 





















1 A - 


AAA A"- 

5> r A -i 

V ' » . * * A 

•P '>V .Y cS5\ x 

j •*• >* : -, ; .; .■-'&; "o o' 

Oo, >- 'A'3 


^ <A * r^- .X ", -P, 

\ * ^ ^ - . i : - : % 

* . - * c ^ l V. ■' # t - aV 


/\ <D ,f j s *» ,Cv 

^ .‘•."'*; / b. ** ,.o-> 


j : 0 J 9 

5^0 o \vj o >- w-^2™msg> .< . 

« A ^ *. ^'-t'A- ^ * <A A Vv^' * ’ 0 

# ** - ^Va % " • .** r ^ ^ 

_ M % * l 

fJ ^. "* * \. v ' ~<-‘ j A f y '& * 

V^ v •<? < a % , «r , \'' -o 

s '' * r o_ -0’' x *’ * a 1 "^ < 0 N * * , r b. r o' S . 

" L' ^ ^/V7-T-r, ' 

/ 




SeCvcfo -» ^ > c 0\\. 

^: a © 


x T*AI ■ VCsr' -> . 

ci- y NKiCiH * ‘I 

’”-x> v s •■*•;- 

-V. <*- 6 A. A A 

< ^ " -a v « 


x° ** : ^ 



s >y V 

$K ■■ °-o 

A * 

i- l . - a- '-> ^ 

.o' a-aX'" 1 ' v>'"V' '"'•* ,n 

.a r ff' A 'f- 



\? * aV <s\ 



^ 0 * x ^ A^ ,, N c J t ' * * s 

^ -I ^ a" v ^ . Ci 

■7 'P -A » * V 

^ -P X. v\ V r s5 -.<v * 

*p > ~ <NnAa‘ -Ac, x <>- V 

/^ x V - ^'. . *0 0 

° 


t ■ ■ -A \J a> v \ 

A VA ** 
y 0 ’ ^ ,\ X 



C vl a N y7 '?y~, A- ^ 

A—A A - ’"A ^ .'.,f 


Vf. r 


\ 

^11,^ \V 



, x s s V U > ,0‘ ■ 



saseM/A 2 

^ << 


■y 



A o 

<j, X’SKSiP'v* A ^ -» ’ v 

x ,"j r u x w-2-, -* 'p (A » ,-Ax . 

k' - X ’ ** ~Kf> c$ ~ ^ ^ v •*'&3M 

,0o y ^ 

A «^v 


° ■( • 
-O' vM , 

- ^ I / • 


v. 

* O 


: »C ^ 's 

% %oTo^^' J - ^ * 

V . s *• r "> ^ v * 0 A *o \> S^AJ' 

' y A ■'A ^ <AJ r_} ^ -</ • _ _JSk ‘ «»?•, 

A 



} S s * r *, > ,0 k r v a ’CV v v S f ^,/>., // x ^ 

' A-A v ’-' A^fe: % 

2 £ •■‘-"rrl' .xv “ \ - . V r~ ~t. / - > ^ * < \> 

M J^S V .:AA^ 

* . J i '^- 4 A r <^ / 'a.^- > '"\ S ,A V ✓ ^ o , v ^ A 


y, , -^-A wmr A’ V' % A ^ 

. % r ^ X~* A °o ^/ A V ^ ^o a A A 

x. v- V c T ,,, :iV iw “3: , o (y 

, , * 

» A A, 

. ^y>/^ A A ^-- ' 

,0 C’ *■ ^ X A' C*v x i, 

O * „ . , p \V cPv * ^ 


V V ’ 

\ 0o x 


< 0 ' ; 




-': \ v « 




x° ^ ^ 





















THE BUSH-RANCHER 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

. 

The Bush-Rancher 
Northwest! 

The Man from the Wilds 
Kit Musgrave’s Luck 
Lister’s Great Adventure 
The Wilderness Mine 
Wyndham’s Pal 
Partners of the Out-Trail 
The Buccaneer Farmer 
The Lure of the North 
The Girl from Keller’s 

> Carmen’s Messenger 
Brandon of the Engineers 
Johnstone of the Border 
The Coast of Adventure 
Harding of Allenwood 
The Secret of the Reef 
For the Allison Honor 
The League of the Leopard ’ 
The Intriguers 
Prescott of Saskatchewan 
Ranching for Sylvia 
The Long Portage 
Vane of the Timberlands 
A Prairie Courtship 
Sydney Carteret, Rancher 
Master of the Wheatlands 
The Gold Trail 
Thurston of Orchard Valley 
The Greater Power 
Thrice Armed 

Lorimer of the Northwest - 
By Right of Purchase 
Delilah of the Snows 
For Jacinta 

Winston of the Prairie 
The Dust of Conflict 
Alton of Somasco 
The Cattle Baron’s Daughter 




THE 


BUSH-RANCHER 


By HAROLD BINDLOSS 


Author of “Northwest!” “The Man from the 
Wilds,” “Kit Musgrave’s Luck,” “Lister’s Great 
Adventure,” “The Wilderness Mine,” “Partners 
of the Out-Trail,” “The Buccaneer Farmer,” 
“The Lure of the North,” etc. 



NEW YORK 


FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 


MCMXXIII 





















Copyright, 1923, by 

Frederick A. Stokes Company 


PUBLISHED IN ENGLAND UNDER THE TITLE 
“ THE KEYSTONE BLOCK” 

All Rights Reserved 



©CIA698524 

/ 

Printed in the United States of America 


MR -3 '23 



CONTENTS 





CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Bob’s Tranquillity . > >• . i 

II. Maxwell Presents Himself . . 9 

III. Helen’s Adventure .... 19 

IV. Dream Pictures ...... 29 

V. Helen Tries Her Power . . . 40 

VI. Maxwell Trusts His Luck . . 51 

VII. Maxwell Relaxes . . ,. 61 

VIII. Helen Makes a Plunge ... 75 

IX. The Plan Works .... 84 

X. Bob Disapproves . . > > . 93 

XI. Maxwell’s Valise .... 101 

XII. The Coffer Goes . > . .112 

XIII. Ellmer’s Speculation . . . 123 

XIV. The Tide Turns ..... 132 

XV. With the Stream . . .• . 142 

XVI. Maxwell’s Hesitation v . . 151 

XVII. Helen Ponders . . f . 161 

XVIII. The Call . . . ... 170 

XIX. The Breaking Strain . . . 179 

XX. The Reckoning . .... 193 

XXI. Helen’s Enlightenment . . . 203 

XXII. The Fight for the Steps . . . 213 

XXIII. Bob Shoulders His Load . •. . 224 

XXIV. Wilmot’s Gun.233 

XXV. Inglis Takes Control . . . 241 


V 






VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XXVI. 

The Inquiry .... 

PAGE 

• 251 

XXVII. 

Helen Takes Charge 

. 263 

XXVIII. 

The Jail-Breakers 

• 273 

XXIX. 

The Puzzle Solved . 

. 285 

XXX. 

Bob’s Luck Turns 

. 296 

XXXI. 

Pioneers. 

. 306 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 



THE BUSH-RANCHER 


I 

bob’s tranquillity 

TJOB CAVERHILL pulled out a small round 
hone and rubbed his ax. The ax was double 
bitted, with two curved blades like the axes the 
Vikings used, and carried a famous Pennsylvania 
maker’s stamp. The hone, shaped something like a 
watch, was made in an electric furnace at Niagara. 
Bob was fastidious about his tools and used the best 
he could get. 

He balanced on a narrow plank, notched, six feet 
from the ground, into a big cedar trunk, and his 
pose was good. His jacket hung from a broken 
branch and his thin gray shirt indicated the firm 
molding of his shoulders and the curve to his 
waist. Bob had long used the ax, and as a rule the 
North American chopper is a model of muscular 
symmetry. His skin was brown, and his quiet 
watchful glance marked him for a man who lived 
in the woods. In fact, Bob Caverhill was a pretty 
good type of the Canadian bush-rancher. 

1 


2 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


When he thought the ax was sharp, he lighted 
his pipe, and leaning against the big trunk, looked 
about. A soft Chinook blew up the valley, and the 
long fields of timothy grass rolled in waves of 
changing color. The stiff dark pines did not move, 
but Bob heard the wind in their saw-edged tops and 
the ripples on the lake. In the open, the ripples 
sparkled like polished steel; in the shade, reflections 
of straight, red trunks and dusky branches trembled 
on the water. For a background, blue hills and a 
high, white peak cut the serene sky. 

For the most part, all Bob saw was his. His 
father, when land was cheap, had bought the 
wooded flats by the lake and Bob was satisfied with 
his inheritance. Although he was young, tranquil¬ 
lity was the dominant note in his character. In the 
woods, all goes quietly, and Bob had some grounds 
for calm satisfaction. Shadow Lake ranch was fer¬ 
tile and carried a good herd of stock. The oat and 
timothy hay the wide clearing grew fed the cattle 
when the undergrowth in the woods withered off. 

The shiplap house and ’log barns were good, the 
orchard gave high-grade packing fruit, and Bob’s 
bank roll met his needs. Moreover, he loved the 
woods, and at Shadow Lake the winds from the 
Pacific drove back the frost. In summer, warm 
rain and scorching sun ripened the crops and urged 
the cedars, pines and hemlocks to tremendous 
growth. The valley was beautiful, but its beauty 


BOB’S TRANQUILLITY 3 

was marked by something virginal and vaguely 
austere. 

Bob’s habit was not to loaf, but for a few min¬ 
utes he smoked his pipe and mused. The big clear¬ 
ing had cost his father much and for some years 
the old man had fought stubbornly to drain the 
muskegs by the lake. At one time it looked as if 
the fight would break Caverhill, but he had con¬ 
quered, and deep ditches pierced the alluvial soil 
that grew bumper crops. Where Caverhill stopped, 
Bob pushed on, and now he saw the reward of his 
labor and room for fresh progress. 

Behind the drained belt, cornfields, dotted by tall 
stumps, occupied rising ground. Farther back was 
a belt of burned brush waiting for the plow, and 
then the tangled logs and branches in the slashing. 
By and by Bob would burn the slashing and cut a 
fresh gap in the forest. 

His father had not urged him to carry on the 
ranch, and had sent him to Toronto University. 
Caverhill, himself, had come out from Montreal, 
and since he was a cultivated man and rich enough 
to buy the large block of land, Bob sometimes won¬ 
dered why he had left the city. All the same, he 
did not think his father had romantic grounds for 
doing so. Caverhill was marked by a sobriety and 
balance that did not harmonize with romantic ex¬ 
ploits, and in North America the keenest ranchers 
are perhaps the men who forsake the cities for the 


4 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

bush. As a rule, however, their children go back. 

Caverhill was obviously satisfied, but Bob thought 
he found the labor hard and was willing for his son 
to follow another occupation. Bob imagined his 
mother was happy at Shadow Lake, although she 
must go without the cultivated society she had 
known. When Bob came back for a summer vaca¬ 
tion Caverhill died. They had rolled logs into piles 
for burning all one scorching day, but after supper 
Caverhill resolved to put a load of oats in the barn. 
Bob was frankly tired and stopped to help his 
mother wash the dishes. Caverhill, however, would 
not own fatigue; all he imagined ought to be done 
must be done. He was quiet and rather slow, but 
Bob thought him indomitable. Bob felt indomitable 
was the proper word, and it was important that he 
had inherited a number of his father’s qualities. 

When Bob and his mother went to the barn, the 
oats were in the mow, but Caverhill lay by the 
empty sledge. His fork was clenched in a stiff, cold 
hand, and Bob knew he had carried his last load. 
Bob did not go back to the university. For Mrs. 
Caverhill Shadow Lake was home, but she died in 
six months and Bob was alone. 

Well, it was eight years since. He had under¬ 
taken a big job and thought he was making good. 
The ranch prospered and he meant to carry out his 
father’s plans. But for this he was not ambitious, 
and so far no woman had disturbed his calm. At 


BOB’S TRANQUILLITY 5 

Toronto he had met a number of fashionable girls, 
but none had charmed him much; at Shadow Lake 
he had known his mother and his neighbors’ 
uncultivated wives. 

After a time, he looked across the shining lake 
and frowned. Paddles flashing in the sun fixed his 
glance and he saw two canoes move round a point. 
The canoes were not Indian dug-outs but factory- 
built boats; Bob knew the gleam of varnish. A 
fishing party was crossing the lake, and he had not 
much use for city sports. Sometimes they arrived 
with tents and packers, and carried expensive guns 
about the bush. The deer they shot were not 
numerous, but they frightened off the shy animals 
and broke the calm that broods over the woods. 

Bob was not at all a moody recluse. It was 
rather that he vaguely shrank from the disturbing 
forces for which the strangers stood. He was 
happy in his occupation and wanted to be left alone. 

The canoes steered for a wooded point on his side 
of the lake. The paddles beat slackly and Bob 
thought the people towed a silver spoon for trout. 
If they landed near the ranch, he must give them 
supper and on the whole he hoped they would not. 
The canoes, however, vanished behind the point and 
he knocked out his pipe. He had stopped for some 
time and the cedar must come down. Balancing on 
the narrow plank, he swung his ax and a measured 
throb rolled across the woods. Bob was a good 


6 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


chopper, and when one can use the ax the rhythmic 
sweep of arms and tool has an absorbing charm. 
Moreover, he must concentrate on driving the keen 
blade into the notch. 

After a time, two men and two women came up 
a path from the lake and stopped near the tree. 
The first two were young, and Helen Maxwell 
imagined she had some talent for art. Bob did not 
see her, and for a few moments she studied him 
with critical curiosity. His figure was good; she 
thought the clean lines Greek. She noted his even 
semicircular swing; his body rather followed than 
drove the shining ax. All his movements were 
measured and the shock of the blade was a staccato 
beat. 

Helen approved his strong neck and the poise of 
his head, which was partly turned from her. She 
saw his brown face in profile and admitted that its 
molding was rather fine. The nose and jaw were 
prominent; the mouth was firm. In fact, she 
thought the unconscious woodman rather a hand¬ 
some fellow. Then her brother advanced. 

“Hello, chopper!” 

Bob’s arms got slack and the ax struck the plank. 
He turned, and looking down, saw a young man 
and an attractive girl. The girl wore a big, shady 
hat, thin summer clothes, and long boots. Her eyes 
and hair were black and her skin was burned red. 
The young man was obviously her brother. They 


BOB’S TRANQUILLITY 7 

had two companions, but Bob looked at his ax, 
stuck in the plank. 

“Pretty near my foot!” he remarked. 

“I’m sorry. Perhaps I ought not to have both¬ 
ered you, but we had waited-” 

“Oh, well,” said Bob, “chopping’s a risky job and 
I have hit my foot when nobody shouted. I saw 
your canoes on the lake, but thought you had made 
for Hemlock Point.” 

Helen Maxwell noted with some amusement that 
he knitted his brows, as if he would rather the party 
had stopped at the point. For all that, in the bush 
hospitality is the rule, and he resumed: “The ranch 
is mine, and if you’re short of flour or groceries, 
I expect we can supply you.” 

“Thanks,” said Maxwell. “All we want is a spot 
to camp. We’ll promise to use some care about our 
fires.” 

“Camp where you want. By the pool behind the 
pines is a pretty good location. Shall I come along 
and help you put up your tents?” 

Maxwell said their Indian packer would pitch the 
camp and he was satisfied to know they could get 
wood and fresh water. 

“You don’t want to start a fire yet,” said Bob, 
who looked at the sun. “Supper’s at six o’clock 
and I’ll expect you at the ranch.” 

Helen did not think him a keen host and im¬ 
agined her brother would refuse, but Maxwell 



8 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

turned to the others and she knew he meant them 
to agree. 

“You’re kind. We’ll arrive at six o’clock,” he 
said. 

Bob let them go and noted carelessly that the 
others were older than the girl and her brother. 
Then he frowned and rubbed his ax. To give the 
party supper and perhaps other meals would not 
bother his cook; but he did not want them about 
the ranch. The girl was attractive; he thought the 
young man keen and cultivated. Bob admitted he 
was perhaps ridiculous, but he would sooner go 
without the society of people like that. They stood 
for much he thought he had done with and was 
resigned to know could not be his. 

When the ax was sharp he resumed his chopping, 
but his tranquillity was gone. The arrival of the 
fishing party had given him a jolt. Bob did not like 
to be jolted and was annoyed, because he knew he 
really wanted the people to remain. There was the 
trouble. 



II 

MAXWELL PRESENTS HIMSELF 

AT six o’clock Bob received his guests in a room 
^ that went across the wooden house. Helen 
Maxwell, looking about with some curiosity, noted 
the big fireplace, built for burning logs, for on the 
Pacific Coast the cold snaps are short. The walls 
were plain, dressed lumber, marked by resinous 
cracks, the roughly boarded floor was torn by nailed 
boots, and the long table was made by a bush car¬ 
penter. For all that, the room was homelike and 
•Helen rather approved its austere simplicity. Per¬ 
haps it was strange, but she thought the piano in a 
corner and the two or three good pictures did not 
jar. 

Outside the hired men joked and laughed. The 
splash of water indicated that they washed, and 
Helen had remarked the row of tin basins on a 
board. The windows commanded a noble view of 
the lake and woods. A door at the back was open, 
and the man-cook carried a loaded tray from a. 
lean-to shed. Then Maxwell turned to his host. 

“I know you are Mr. Caverhill, and I must pre¬ 
sent you to Mrs. Duff and my sister Helen. Then, 

since you don’t yet know us, I must present my 

9 


10 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


partner and myself. We are Duff and Maxwell, 
real estate agents, Vancouver City. Duff is head of 
the house, but I stopped your chopping and am ac¬ 
countable for our meeting.” 

Bob gave Mrs. Duff his hand. “1 hope you’ll 
soon know me better, ma’am, and so long as you 
stay in our neighborhood you will use the 
ranch-” 

Somebody in the passage laughed and pushed 
another. Heavy boots rattled on the boards and 
the hired men came in. They wore loose, colored 
shirts and overalls, their red faces shone, and their 
hair was flat and dark with water. One pulled up 
a clumsy bench, Bob indicated chairs for his guests, 
the cook threw down the plates, and supper was 
served. 

Helen Maxwell had not visited at a ranch before 
and thought there was something Homeric about 
the function. The cooking was rude, but the food 
was good; the men were big and their soil-stained 
clothes were thin. One saw the molding of their 
muscular bodies. At the beginning they were quiet 
and ate with frank satisfaction, like hungry animals, 
but when the food vanished one and another began 
to talk. Sometimes Caverhill was Boss and some¬ 
times Bob. In England Helen had studied classical 
art and history, and she thought her host’s rule 
was rather like the rule of the head of an old 
Greek.household before Athenian cultivation spread. 



MAXWELL PRESENTS HIMSELF 11 

Nothing indicated that he was a modern Canadian 
employer, but she imagined he did rule. 

By and by the choppers went off noisily and 
Helen heard one remark that the girl was “a looker.” 
She saw Bob’s twinkle and frankly laughed. Then 
the cook picked up the dishes and the party went 
to the veranda. In front was a big arrow-bush and 
shining humming-birds hovered about the straight 
branches and snowy flowers. In the background 
were dark woods, quiet water, and a peak that glim¬ 
mered blue and white, cutting the yellow sky. 

Bob put down cigarettes and tobacco and studied 
his guests. He was not keen about real-estate 
agents. On the whole, he thought them a pushing, 
vulgar, and rather unscrupulous lot, for the bush- 
rancher is something of an aristocrat, like the desert 
Bedouin. He rules hard men and his rule is 
founded on physical pluck and his knowing his job. 
Yet real-estate agents were useful, and Bob thought 
Duff a good Ontario type. Moreover, he under¬ 
stood the Vancouver house put up a square deal. 
He knew some others that did not. 

Duff’s hair had begun to get white; he was rather 
fat and quietly humorous, although his jokes were 
not at all clever. Mrs. Duff was marked by a touch 
of refinement. Bob had known one or two ladies 
like her in Toronto. Perhaps it was strange, but 
Maxwell, although frankly English, was nearer the 
Canadian land-agent type than Duff. His confi- 


12 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


dence was marked, his restless glance was keen, and 
he led the talk. Bob thought Duff stood for sobriety 
and balance, but Maxwell was the driving force. 
Then his glance dwelt on Helen. 

Although she was very young, he saw she had 
something of her brother’s confidence; he thought 
her sanguine, quick and generous. Her eyes and 
hair were black, her skin, where the sun had not 
touched it, was clear white, and her clothes were 
fashionable. Bob knew city campers sometimes en¬ 
gaged packers to carry their clothes. Her figure 
was rather short, but gracefully slender and round. 
In fact, Bob admitted that she had charm. 

“Had you good luck fishing?” he inquired. 

“Pretty good,” said Duff. “We got some big 
gray trout, but Miss Maxwell and my partner are 
the sports. My wife likes the woods and brought 
me along. Then Harry not long ago jumped us into 
a bold speculation, and when he swung the deal 
across I felt I needed a holiday.” 

“In our occupation, modesty like Duff’s is some¬ 
thing of a drawback,” Maxwell remarked and 
laughed. “Although the plan was mine, I could 
not have made good had not my partner helped. 
We needed a large sum and I imagine investors put 
up the money because they knew Tom Duff. I 
doubt if they would have bet much on me.” 

Bob approved his frank laugh. “Are you stop¬ 
ping long?” he asked. “The fishing’s pretty good, 


MAXWELL PRESENTS HIMSELF 13 

and if Mrs. Duff and your sister like, they can use 
a room at the ranch.” 

It looked as if Maxwell hesitated and Bob 
thought he studied Helen, but he said, “You’re kind. 
We don’t know yet; we’ll camp until our mail ar¬ 
rives. Our clerks can handle all the business that 
was doing when we started. Besides, we’re not 
altogether engaged in a fishing excursion.” 

“Ah,” said Bob, “you’re looking about? Well, 
the back country is Government land and mine is 
not for sale.” 

“Harry’s habit is to look about,” Duff remarked. 
“Sometimes he sees, and puts over, a lucky scheme; 
sometimes he does not. Well, I admit the real 
estate man who’s satisfied to sit at his desk and sell 
building lots for a commission doesn’t get very far; 
but when you speculate on back-blocks you need 
some grit and a big bank-roll.” 

Mrs. Duff looked up and Bob imagined she ap¬ 
proved her husband’s caution. Maxwell smiled, but 
his look was boyishly keen. 

“We are boring Mr. Caverhill and since we’re 
inquisitive city tenderfeet we would sooner he 
talked about the bush. For example, does a ranch 
pay?” 

“If I talk about ranching economy, I’ll bore Mrs. 
Duff and Miss Maxwell,” Bob rejoined. 

Mrs. Duff gave him a smile, and Helen said, “Not 
at all. I don’t know if it’s remarkable, but the bush 


14 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

interests me. One feels the woods are waiting, per¬ 
haps waiting to be used, and now the towns grow 
fast, their quiet charm must soon be broken. One 
speculates about the breaking- But I’m an in¬ 

quiring tourist and you are a rancher.” 

Bob thought her interest sincere and he said, “On 
the Northern Pacific slope, a bush ranch is not for 
a time a paying proposition. Anyhow, I imagine 
you would get richer if you put your money in a 
bank. Our ranches are not, like the ranches on the 
plains, open cattle runs. In winter, you must feed 
the stock; and clearing ground is a slow, laborious 
job. Then, at first, you do not get much of a crop. 
The soil must lie open to rain and sun; you must 
cultivate out the resin.” 

“But if the reward is very small, why do you 
undertake the labor?” 

“Ranching has some advantages. Nobody is your 
master and all you see is yours. You live in the 
woods; sometimes, when you’re not occupied, you 
can fish and shoot. Isn’t it like that in the Old 
Country? Haven’t you people willing to pay for 
owning land?” 

“Our landlords do not chop big pines and roll 
about heavy logs.” 

“In Canada, we reckon a man’s business is to take 
a job; but when you stay with the job you do get 
a reward,” Bob replied. “Although, at first, a bush 
ranch does not pay, it’s a pretty good investment.” 



MAXWELL PRESENTS HIMSELF 15 


He indicated the tangled belt of chopped trees at 
the edge of the forest. “See how it works! You 
begin at the slashing and when you have burned the 
logs you raise a thin hay crop between the stumps. 
The oats will feed a few cattle that in summer run 
loose in the bush. After a few years, the crop gets 
heavier, you grub out the rotting stumps, and carry 
a larger bunch of stock. Maybe you buy sheep and 
plant an orchard. All the time, you’re pushing back 
the woods and the soil is getting fertile. Then the 
Government grades a wagon road and homesteaders 
arrive. Somebody builds a sawmill, another starts 
a pulp factory. People want land and ranch 
produce. You needn’t haul your truck to a market; 
the market has come to you. You bought cheap, 
but you can sell for a good price.” 

“But you must wait for a number of years; per¬ 
haps for a large number.” 

“You get a good time and to know you are 
making progress is some satisfaction. Anyhow, we 
have got a big virgin country; our part’s to culti¬ 
vate the wilds.” 

Maxwell smiled, but his smile was marked by a 
touch of scorn. “The country’s wonderfully rich, 
I imagine, its beauty is hardly equaled, and on the 
coast the climate’s glorious. You have water power, 
splendid timber, and mineral veins. Yet you’re 
satisfied to grow fruit and raise some sheep and 
cattle. Why, it looks as if you were asleep!” 


16 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Bob’s glance was tranquil, but Helen thought 
Harry exaggerated. Caverhill was sober and per¬ 
haps, like Duff, rather slow, but one got a hint of 
properly-controlled force. Somehow she imagined 
Bob had not yet used all his powers. 

‘The plan is mine and I consider it pretty sound,” 
he said. “What is yours?” 

“Mine’s to help along industrial development,” 
Maxwell replied. “British Columbia can buy beef 
from Alberta and wheat from Saskatchewan. We 
ought to use the rivers for manufacturing, and cut 
mine tunnels. We can get power for the cost of 
the turbines and refine the metals by electrolysis. 
We can drive sawmills and pulp-mills without burn¬ 
ing fuel. Then the province is Nature’s sanatorium 
and playground for North America. I’d cut trails 
for the tourists, run steamers, and build mountain 
hotels.” 

“We haven’t yet got the money,” said Bob. “My 
notion is, when Canadians start borrowing, the 
lenders in the Old Country corral the profit.” 

He knocked out his pipe and studied Maxwell. 
The fellow was a land-agent and a land-agent’s busi¬ 
ness is to talk, but Bob saw his enthusiasm was sin¬ 
cere. Moreover, since business men in the Western 
cities are an optimistic, adventurous lot, Bob 
thought Maxwell would go far. The fellow had 
qualities- Then he turned to Mrs. Duff. 

“I’m afraid we have bored you, ma’am.” 



MAXWELL PRESENTS HIMSELF 17 

“Not at all, but we have stopped some time and 
our camp is not yet fixed,” Mrs. Duff replied and 
went off with Helen and Maxwell. 

Bob stopped Duff, who was looking for his hat. 
He thought Duff a sober Ontario Scot and he liked 
the type. 

“Your partner’s something of a hustler and I 
expect he’ll soon put all straight at the camp. 
Won’t you take another smoke?” 

Duff sat down again and stretched his legs. “I’ve 
paddled for ’most six hours, and I’m willing for 
Harry to pull about our truck. When you’re fresh 
from an office, to kneel in the bottom of a canoe 
makes you tired.” 

“Has Maxwell joined you long?” 

“About two years. I heard him argue against an 
old-time storekeeper at a Kamloops hotel,” Duff 
replied. “The storekeeper was not a fool and I 
thought his line pretty sound, but Maxwell had 
something to him that carried the boys away. I 
don’t mean he was plausible; you felt he knew his 
argument was right. When you deal in real estate 
a talent like that is useful. I wanted a clerk and 
Harry admitted he wanted a job.” 

“It looks as if he soon made good.” 

“Maxwell is now my partner; we have got a new 
office and two or three extra clerks. Ours is an old- 
time house; my father put up his shingle when Van¬ 
couver was built of sawmill slabs. Our line was the 


18 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


honest broker’s. When a man wanted goods we 
were ordered to sell, we took our commission and 
fixed up the deal. When we had not the goods we 
let him go.” 

“The plan’s sound, but I doubt if it’s up-to-date,” 
said Bob. 

“Maxwell is up-to-date,” Duff rejoined. “When 
he can’t get all a customer wants he persuades him 
to want what we have got. He can persuade peo¬ 
ple. There’s his talent.” 

“So long as the people you persuade remain satis¬ 
fied, a talent like that is useful.” 

“Our customers haven’t grumbled yet. The boys 
know Duff’s rule is to put up the goods. That 
stands, but since Maxwell joined me, the house has 
gone ahead. In fact, sometimes I feel as if I’d 
hitched my wagon to a locomotive.” 

Bob laughed. “Oh, well, since I don’t speculate. 
Maxwell won’t hustle me. Anyhow, you’ll come 
along for breakfast, and if we get rain, you’ll send 
the ladies to the ranch.” 

Duff thanked him and soon afterwards went 
away. 


Ill 


Helen’s adventure 

Tj'OR some distance below the lake, Shadow River 
A runs noisily between smooth rocks and rows of 
big dark pines. In places, an angry rapid cuts a 
white streak through the gloom; in places, the 
channel widens and soft light touches the revolving 
pools. Battered driftwood lines the banks and in¬ 
dicates where the savage current reaches when the 
snow melts on the distant peak. 

The river was low one tranquil evening and 
throbbed quietly in the woods. A varnished canoe 
slid across a pool, swerved in the eddies and went 
smoothly down a frothing reach. Helen Maxwell 
occupied the beam at the middle; Bob, in the stern, 
used the steering paddle. The sun was low and 
sometimes a glittering level beam touched a red 
trunk, but for the most part the woods were dim 
and their quiet shadow floated on the stream. 

Helen tied a trout fly on a length of fine gut. She 
was keen about fishing and Bob knew where the big 
trout were. Besides, Maxwell approved her fishing 
excursions. In fact, he had stated frankly that he 
wanted to cultivate Bob, and if she could interest 
the fellow it would help. 

19 


20 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Helen did not altogether approve her brother’s 
frankness, but she owed Harry much. She thought 
his talent for business remarkable, and as a rule she 
was willing to help. Moreover, to interest Caver- 
hill was not unpleasant. Perhaps it was the con¬ 
trast from Harry’s restlessness, but she had begun 
to like the bushman’s calm. By and by the throb 
of the river got louder and she saw angry foam 
ahead. Rocks broke the channel and in places the 
current was heaped against the stones. 

“Isn’t the rapid awkward? Can we get down?” 
she asked. 

“If you like, we’ll land and walk round, but we 
can get down.” 

“Then we’ll go on,” said Helen. “But what about 
getting back?” 

“When we come back I’ll portage the canoe.” 

“Can you carry a canoe?” Helen inquired and 
laughed. “Harry tried, but fell down. The canoe 
fell on him and since he was much annoyed I think 
he hurt his knees. Somehow I imagined only an 
Indian could portage a canoe.” 

“All an Indian can do, a white man can do,” Bob 
replied. 

“Well, one finds out that the bushmen do not 
boast. You’re a reserved and rather modest lot. 
Our friends in the cities are not at all reserved and 
their modesty’s not marked, but I expect you know 
something about real estate business-” 



HELEN’S ADVENTURE 


21 


“I do know something,” Bob admitted with a 
twinkle. “When your job’s to sell things, you must 
not be modest; but we won’t talk just now. Sit 
tight and help me steady the canoe.” 

Helen looked ahead and braced herself. In front 
was a glassy smooth slope of water; one saw it 
slanted. At the bottom the current piled up in 
breaking waves, and then dark rocks pierced a tur¬ 
moil of leaping foam. 

The canoe plunged down the slope, smoothly and 
steadily, like a toboggan on a beaten run, and for 
a moment Helen held her breath. She felt the 
savage leap when they struck the wave, and blind¬ 
ing spray beat her face. Then they sped on, but 
she thought they went like a locomotive, and the 
canoe swerved and lurched. Rocks and whirlpools 
rushed back, the speed was frankly daunting, and 
Helen turned her head. Bob’s pose was very quiet, 
but his stiff arms indicated that he used the paddle. 
His mouth was firm and his glance was fixed in 
front. He concentrated on his steering and his 
calm was inscrutable. Helen did not know if to 
hold the canoe straight bothered him; all that was 
plain was, he meant to shoot the rapid. The pic¬ 
ture intrigued Helen, for she felt his resolve was 
typical. 

Then she thought he knew she studied him, for 
he knit his brows and she looked ahead. For a few 
moments, rocks and trees rolled by as if they sped 


22 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

upstream. The canoe leaped on angry waves and 
swung across revolving pools. Then the sense of 
risk and speed was gone, and they floated into the 
shadows that trembled on a quiet reach. Nothing 
broke the surface and Helen turned to Bob. 

“The trout are not rising.” 

Bob indicated the strong red glow behind the 
pine-tops. 

“The sun’s not down yet and we must wait. 
When the water’s low, the trout feed for about 
twenty minutes at the edge of dark. You can’t get 
one before and they quit afterwards. Looks as if 
you liked fishing. I suppose you were a sports girl 
in the Old Country.” 

Helen laughed. “I was not at all a sports girl, 
and until I came to Canada I had not caught a 
trout. You see, in England trout fishing’s expen- 
sive. 

Somehow Bob had not thought her poor. She 
wore the stamp of high cultivation, and although 
her brother had taken Duff’s pay, he was not the 
sort of land-agent’s clerk Bob had known. Besides, 
Maxwell was now Duff’s partner. 

“Then, I expect you like it in Canada.” 

“I do like Canada. For one thing, I like the 
woods and mountains. Besides, one gets a sense of 
freedom I hadn’t known at home. In England I 
was firmly ruled by old-fashioned relations.^ 

“Sometimes Hamilton gives me an Old Country 


HELEN’S ADVENTURE 23 

newspaper. I rather thought your people were get¬ 
ting up-to-date,” Bob remarked. 

“Ah,” said Helen, “you don’t know England! In 
Canada, you use a common language and common 
standards. Something unites you and to some ex¬ 
tent you think alike. One, of course, notes indi¬ 
vidual differences, but you all wear the Canadian 
stamp.” 

“That is so,” Bob agreed. “I imagine the stamp 
is North American. Minnesota crosses the political 
frontier to Ontario; British Columbia runs into 
Washington State.” 

“In England, we, so to speak, belong to exclusive 
clans. The rules of one clan are not another’s 
rules. Some are human and progressive, but mine 
stood for vanishing traditions. Nobody who was 
not born in the clan was allowed to join.” 

“But are not your exclusive people rich?” 

“Some are very poor, but since their ancestors 
were important they must not admit their poverty,” 
Helen replied. “One must pretend, and after a time 
pretense gets hateful. However, now it’s done with, 
perhaps to talk like this is ridiculous-” 

She blushed and stopped, but her glance was hard 
and Bob thought she did not forget. 

“Then, to leave the Old Country didn’t cost you 
much ?” 

“To join Harry was a splendid adventure, and 
when he got a post at Duff’s I started. His pay 



24 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


was not large and we camped in a shack on the 
Westminster road. I cooked on a kerosene stove 
and washed our clothes in a coal-oil can. In Eng¬ 
land, I lived at a big gloomy house in a cathedral 
close. The deanery was opposite and dominated us. 
In fact, I think there was the trouble, because the 
deanery did not stand for all a cathedral stands for. 
We must not know people the dean’s wife did not 
approve, and Harry had talents he was not allowed 
to use. He must go to Oxford and afterwards to 
the Bar-” 

Bob mused and searched the pool for the splash 
that marks a rising fish. The girl’s humor was 
touched by bitterness, and he imagined she had re¬ 
belled against the rules she hated and paid for her 
rashness; but he noted her pluck. Although she was 
cultivated and fastidious, she was willing to join 
Maxwell when he occupied a two- or three-roomed 
shack. For a girl like that, it was something of a 
plunge. 

“Your brother’s talents are for business,” he said. 

“Our relations did not know business men. All 
the same, an ancestor was a banker and I think 
another kept a famous shop. Perhaps this accounts 
for something. Well, Harry went to Oxford, but 
by and by he declared he had had enough-” 

“Then, your relations sent your brother to 
Canada ?” 




HELEN’S ADVENTURE 25 

“They were willing for him to go,” said Helen 
and hesitated. “They did not help-” 

Bob wondered whether something accounted for 
her relations’ willingness about which she did not 
want to speculate. He thought her very stanch, and 
since she trusted Maxwell it looked as if the fellow 
had some useful qualities. 

“Your brother had not much money?” 

“When he landed he had fifty dollars, but as soon 
as he got a post he sent for me. When I reached 
Vancouver I had five dollars.” 

“You ran some risk. I reckon you were lucky 
because Maxwell made good.” 

Helen’s smile was proud. “I didn’t hesitate; I 
knew Harry’s pluck, and when you have pluck and 
trust yourself, to make good is not hard. For one 
thing, others trust you.” 

“I wonder-” Bob remarked thoughtfully. 

“But I have not had much to do with people. My 
job’s to chop trees.” 

“Does chopping trees satisfy you? When people 
are building sawmills and smelters; risking much to 
develop your wonderful country, and themselves 
getting rich?” 

“After all, I think chopping is my proper job.” 

For a moment or two Helen hesitated and her 
color rose. She was young and although her en¬ 
thusiasm was sincere, Harry had stated that if she 




26 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


interested Caverhill it would help. Perhaps it was 
strange, but she wanted to interest him. 

“Have you tried another job?” she asked. 

“Not yet,” said Bob quietly. “So far, I’m satis¬ 
fied, but in the West the pioneering instinct is pretty 
keen. We reckon our business is to push back the 
woods and push on the settlements. If I thought 
my business was to use the water power on the 
ranch for manufacturing, perhaps I’d get busy; but 
I don’t know-” 

“You are not ambitious. If the ranch were 
mine, I’d look for minerals; I’d build a mill and 
cut the spruce trees for paper pulp.” 

“When your bank roll’s not very big, starting up 
a manufacturing plant is an awkward proposition.” 

“Sometimes others will help you,” Helen re¬ 
joined. “If you can persuade speculators a plan 
will pay, you can use their money. In fact, I think 
if you are resolute you can get where you want to 

go-” Then she stopped and laughed. “But 

after all I’m not Harry’s tout and I hear a fish 
splash.” 

The light was going, but pale reflections touched 
the water and Bob steered for a widening ring. 
Then he saw another, and in a few moments it 
looked as if a hailstorm beat the pool. A' cloud of 
insects skimmed the current, and where the cloud 
hovered the surface broke. Helen seized her rod 
and her hand shook. She had not known trout rise 




HELEN’S ADVENTURE 27 

like this, but the water was smooth. She did not 
see a ripple she could use to hide the line. 

“Get going and cast where you like. HI watch 
out,” said Bob. 

Helen got up, and although to balance a light 
canoe is awkward, Bob remarked her confidence 
and her easy pose. Yet she was very keen; he 
thought she concentrated on all she did. The flies 
drifted across the ring that marked where a trout 
had leaped and the rod-top bent. Bob saw Helen’s 
body stiffen and heard the reel. 

“Oh!” she gasped, “I’ve got hold of something 
big!” 

“Trust the gut and snub him hard,” said Bob. 
“Maybe you’ve got ten minutes to load up.” 

The trout leaped from the river, Helen swayed 
and the canoe rocked. Bob imagined she fought an 
instinctive impulse to pull out the heavy fish; but 
she held down the butt and checked the reel. Bob 
seized the net and watched a shining object circle 
toward the canoe. Then he leaned over cautiously 
and the fish was in the net. 

“Some trout!” he said. “Don’t stop. Get after 
them again.” 

For about ten minutes Helen’s ambition to catch 
good fish was satisfied. Then the splashes stopped; 
the dim water rolled by smoothly and all was quiet. 
Helen put down the rod and began to count the fish 
at the bottom of the canoe. 


28 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“Splendid sport!’’ she said. “Still, had you not 
been clever with the net, I might have lost a 
number.” 

“Would that have bothered you very much?” Bob 
asked with a twinkle. 

Helen pondered for a moment or two: sometimes 
she was naively philosophical. 

“Well,” she said, “when I go to catch trout, I like 
to catch trout. You get some satisfaction from 
doing what you mean to do. Then fishing has a 
curious charm; perhaps it’s because you must use 
skill, and perhaps it’s the uncertainty. You must 
put the fly where the fish expect a fly to go, and it 
must drop like a fly. But you may get nothing; 
the water runs on and does not break. You don’t 
know if a big trout is watching under the ripples 
and will rise at another cast.” 

“Trout and people are like that,” said Bob and 
laughed. “However, dark is coming and we must 
make a portage through the bush.” 

He paddled to the bank, lifted the canoe upright, 
and getting underneath, balanced it on his bent 
shoulders and went off. Helen noted that he went 
easily, across awkward stones and rocky ledges, but 
she knew the bushman’s balance is good. 


IV 


DREAM PICTURES 

r | X HE sun was hot, the lake shone like glass, and 
resinous smells floated about the woods. 
Breakfast was over and Mrs. Duff occupied a camp- 
chair in the shade of a big hemlock opposite the 
double tent. Duff lay in the dry pine needles and 
languidly studied The Colonist. Bob’s ax had 
stopped and all was quiet. One heard the river 
throb and sometimes in the distance cow-bells 
clanked. 

Duff was rather fat and his slight stoop indicated 
that he had for long been engaged at an office desk. 
Although his mood was philosophical, his face was 
marked by lines and Mrs. Duff imagined some had 
got deeper recently. Yet Tom was not old and, so 
far as she knew, all went well with him. Mrs. Duff 
was a quiet, kind, shrewd woman and trusted her 
husband. People who knew Tom Duff did trust 
him. 

For long his business methods were conservative 
and his customers declared the house was safe. If 
you gave Duff’s land to sell, you got a just price; if 
you bought a town-lot, you got the ground for 

which you paid. People who bought from others 

29 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


30 

sometimes got stung. Recently, however, Duff had 
let himself go. Perhaps he was bitten by the rash 
speculation that rules in Western towns when trade 
is good, but to some extent Maxwell had carried 
him away. 

Maxwell had gone back to the office, but he ex¬ 
pected to rejoin the party soon, and since Mrs. Duff 
liked the woods Duff was resigned to stay. He felt 
he needed a holiday. He had borne some strain 
and the house’s business had recently gone fast. 
In fact, Duff admitted that he did not altogether 
approve the speed. 

In the meantime, Mrs. Duff saw a hired man go 
to the spot where Bob not long since chopped a 
tree. The fellow stopped and looked about, as if 
he were puzzled, and Mrs. Duff smiled. A small, 
shining object trailed a ripple across the lake and 
she imagined Caverhill had gone off with Helen in 
the canoe. 

“Do you think Maxwell has noticed Helen’s at¬ 
traction for Caverhill?” she inquired. 

“I don’t know; I reckon Harry would not notice 
a thing like that,” Duff replied carelessly. 

“I wonder-” said Mrs. Duff in a thoughtful 

voice. “Anyhow, Caverhill is attracted.” 

“Oh, well, Helen’s a charming girl, but the 
rancher’s a pretty good sort.” 

“He is not Helen’s sort. She has a number of 
her brother’s qualities. Caverhill’s another type.” 



DREAM PICTURES 31 

“From the beginning I’ve imagined you didn’t 
quite approve Maxwell,” Duff remarked. 

“I like Maxwell. One feels his charm and his 
keen enthusiasm. In a way, he’s sincere, but I 
doubt if he’s fastidious. Then I feel you are not 
altogether the man you were before Harry joined 
you. Sometimes you are tired, and sometimes you 
are moody.” 

“It’s possible,” Duff admitted. “I’m an old- 
timer and perhaps my habit’s to go slow, but Max¬ 
well hits up the pace. Anyhow, he’s stanch. Bris¬ 
tow & Thornbank tried to get him; their proposi¬ 
tion was tempting, but he wouldn’t quit. Then he’s 
surely pushing Duff’s ahead. We have got a smart 
new office and two or three extra clerks. I hustle 
from breakfast until I go to bed. The strange thing 
is, although we handle stacks of money, my bank¬ 
roll’s not large. The money we get goes.” 

“Maxwell does hit up the pace. Do you think 
you can stay with it?” 

“I’ve got to try,” said Duff and smiled. “The 
struggle for business is pretty fierce and when your 
competitors use automobiles you can’t use a buck- 
board. However, if I can stay with it for five or 
six years, I’ll be resigned to quit.” 

Mrs. Duff was not altogether satisfied, but she 
wanted to be just. She admitted her doubting 
Maxwell, in a sense, was instinctive and perhaps not 
logical. 


32 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“When we started on our excursion, do you think 
Harry meant to stay at Shadow Lake?” 

Duff looked up and knitted his brows. “Now I 
think about it, when we broke camp he rather 
rushed us off, and although I’d sooner have steered 
for headwaters, he wanted to portage for the lake. 
Perhaps he had an object. Paper-pulp sells for a 
good price and I see indications of a land-boom’s 
starting. Harry has for some time talked about 
our speculating on a pulp-mill and a manufacturing 
town-site; he declares two or three big-business men 
would help. The spruce timber about the lake is 
useful for pulp, but if we resolved to start in the 
Shadow Valley, Caverhill must join. His piece by 
the river’s the keystone block.” 

“The undertaking is ambitious. Do you think 
Duff’s could carry the load?” 

“Sometimes I doubt; sometimes I want to brace 
up and try. If we could swing it over, I’d be justi¬ 
fied to stop. I’m getting old and perhaps I get slack, 
but I’ve recently begun to feel effort’s hard and I 
must take a rest. Harry, however, has not yet got 
after Caverhill.” 

“I wonder whether Harry sees that Helen might 
help,” Mrs. Duff remarked thoughtfully. 

“Not at all,” said Duff, frowning. “Anyhow, he 
doesn’t, consciously, want her to meddle, and Helen 
would refuse. The girl’s proud, and if she had 
grounds for getting mad, I’d sooner not face her.” 


DREAM PICTURES 33 

“Oh, well,” said Mrs. Duff. “Harry won’t arrive 
for a few days, and we’ll talk about it again.” 

Duff went off and presently sat down in the 
woods and lighted his pipe. He was sober and 
people thought him practical. A's a rule, he took, 
mechanically, the prudent line, but for all that 
sometimes romance called and he was moved by an 
ambition Mrs. Duff did not know. He wanted to 
carry out a big business deal; to show people, par¬ 
ticularly his wife, he had qualities. Then he would 
be satisfied to stop. Although he labored in the city, 
he loved trees; he vaguely saw himself growing 
fruit, at Cheemainus, on the Island, for example. 
Sometimes he saw the pretty ranch-house against a 
background of apple blossom. 

Mrs. Duff stopped by the tent and mused. She 
knew her husband’s virtues, but she knew his draw¬ 
backs. Tom, if left alone, would not go very far. 
Now Maxwell pushed him along she was vaguely 
disturbed, but after all his rapid progress had some 
advantages. Tom had built a new house and given 
her a big car; their friends were people of finer 
stamp than the small speculators and land-agents 
she was for long satisfied to know. Mrs. Duff liked 
fashionable people and to see the newspapers record 
her parties flattered her. 

All the same, the parties were not important, and 
she did not want Tom, for her sake, to run a risk. 
The trouble was, she could not weigh the risk and 


34 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


rather thought Tom could not. He was not a specu¬ 
lator. People knew his old-fashioned sobriety and 
Mrs. Duff thought it, to some extent, accounted for 
the house’s progress. Maxwell was the driving 
force, but had not customers trusted Tom, his part¬ 
ner could not have pushed ahead. Mrs. Duff 
thought Maxwell knew, although he had not planned 
to use her husband. 

Maxwell was not consciously unscrupulous, and 
in the West his youth and romantic enthusiasm 
were not drawbacks. Then he was marked by a 
strange persuasive charm. Mrs. Duff admitted 
that she was old-fashioned and her rules, perhaps, 
were getting out of date. She did not see the 
line she ought to take and her hesitation bothered 
her. 

After a few days Maxwell returned. His look 
was highly strung, but somehow triumphant; Max¬ 
well’s habit was not to use reserve. In the after¬ 
noon he and Duff went to the river bank. It was 
typical that Maxwell walked about and talked and 
Duff sat in the shade and smoked. 

“If you agree and Caverhill is willing, I can put 
the settlement scheme across,” Maxwell said. “But 
we must get to work now, when all is favorable. 
Trade’s good, British and American investors are 
looking about, and people are keen on real estate. 
For three or four days I’ve interviewed our specu¬ 
lating customers and talked at the hotels. In fact, 


DREAM PICTURES 35 

I didn’t stop until I went to bed. Folks were in¬ 
terested-” 

“We want solid support,” Duff remarked. “Five- 
hundred-dollar investments won’t help much.” 

“I don’t know,” said Maxwell. “To get your 
capital from a number of small speculators is a 
pretty good plan. A crowd can’t meddle; you’re 
not forced to enlighten dissatisfied folk-” 

Duff looked up, for he thought Maxwell was 
franker than he knew. 

“My plan’s a square and open deal. There’s an¬ 
other thing: sometimes a crowd gets rattled. I’ve 
known scared stockholders break a sound business 
scheme. The job’s big, and if we resolve to go 
ahead, I expect to get up against some obstacles. 
We don’t want people who’ll throw down their stock 
and jump to get out.” 

“Very well. I imagine Alsager would satisfy 
you ?” 

Alsager had floated one or two prosperous com¬ 
panies for the exploitation of mining and timber 
rights. He was an important man and Duff’s 
doubts began to vanish. 

“If Alsager came in, I’d risk it. Can you get 
him ?” 

For a moment or two Maxwell hesitated, and 
then said, “I was at Victoria and Alsager gave me 
an hour or two. Examined the scheme from the 
beginning and admitted it ought to go. I don’t 




36 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


want to boast, but if you stipulate for his support, 
I’ll engage to persuade him. When I got back to 
town I looked up Thornbank.” 

“Thornbank doesn’t carry the other’s weight,” 
Duff remarked. “Anyhow, your first job is to per¬ 
suade Caverhill.” 

“That is so. Since we go to the ranch for sup¬ 
per, I’ll try. Alsager agreed that if we mean to 
carry out the plan, we must get going soon.” 

“Very well,” said Duff. “You can talk to Caver¬ 
hill.” 

When the party went to the veranda after supper, 
Maxwell pulled out some documents. His rule was 
to trust his luck and make a plunge, but now he 
hesitated. For one thing, Caverhill’s sober quietness 
bothered him; he was not like the gambling specu¬ 
lators whose greed Maxwell worked upon. Then 
Maxwell felt his arguments would go better in a 
noisy hotel rotunda than at the ranch. Somehow 
the big house was austere and he knew the quiet 
pine forest was not his proper background. More¬ 
over, Mrs. Duff and Helen did not go. In fact, he 
saw Mrs. Duff meant to remain and he doubted if 
she were his friend. All the same, he turned to his 
host. 

“I want you to weigh a proposition, Mr. Caver¬ 
hill. Your ranch, in a sense, commands Shadow 
Valley; the timber you burn off the ground is worth 
much, and the fall and rapids would supply useful 


DREAM PICTURES 


37 


power. In fact, part of the block might be used for 
a manufacturing settlement, and if you will allow 
me to state the advantages I think mark my 
plan-•” 

Bob looked up with some surprise. “You can go 
ahead.” 

For ten minutes Maxwell talked with rather 
theatrical force, but his arguments were logical, and 
Mrs. Duff saw he himself was moved by the pic¬ 
tures he drew. She wondered what Caverhill 
thought, and was rather surprised because his calm, 
brown face baffled her. 

“Your proposition is to buy my ranch ?” he said 
when Maxwell stopped. 

“We want the square from the lake and the tail 
of the rapid to the bottom of the hill. The block’s 
the keystone of the plan. If you are willing to sell, 
we must try to agree about the proper price.” 

“I am not willing to sell,” said Bob. 

For a moment or two all were quiet. Maxwell 
looked as if he had got a knock, but Mrs. Duff was 
conscious of some relief. Helen glanced at Bob and 
her color rose. She was her brother’s champion 
and sympathized with his ambitions; she thought 
she hated the obstinate bushman. Then Maxwell 
braced up. 

“The ranch is yours, Mr. Caverhill, but I doubt 
if your holding up land needed for industrial de¬ 
velopment is justified. If you keep possession, the 



38 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


block may feed a bunch of cattle; if you let it go, it 
will soon support three or four hundred workmen. 
Where you grow oats and orchard-grass we’ll put 
up factories and build a settlement Perhaps I’m 
romantic, but I see the settlement grow; the board 
houses making room for concrete banks and stores 
and office blocks. A railroad advancing up the val¬ 
ley from the coast, and a steamer running on the 
lake. Then we do not urge you to sell us the block. 
If you would sooner take stock in the company and 
use some control, it might help.” 

“That’s another thing,” said Bob. “I’m not will¬ 
ing to sell out to a bunch of greedy speculators 
whose object is to get rich by booming building lots. 
I might take stock in a company floated to use the 
water power for driving factories-” 

He stopped and for a few moments knitted his 
brows and mused. He liked the quiet woods and 
was happy at the ranch. Perhaps he liked to rule 
and know all he saw was his. Yet he was a modern 
Canadian, and in Canada man’s business is to break 
the wilderness. The pioneer goes first with the 
packhorse, carrying ax and saw, but when he has 
cleared the ground men use locomotives and electric 
tools. 

“To begin with, a proper dam would cost you 
high,” he resumed. “In order for you to get the 
money, men whom people know must back the 
scheme. Who will join?” 



DREAM PICTURES 


39 


“A'lsager is willing and Thornbank’s interested.” 

“Alsager’s a white man; I don’t know about the 
other,” said Bob: “Well, you can get to work at 
your calculations. When you can give me particu¬ 
lars we’ll talk about it again. In the meantime, I 
don’t promise to negotiate.” 

“In the morning I start for Vancouver,” Maxwell 
replied and a few minutes afterwards his party went 
off. 

Maxwell, however, did not go to the tent. He 
sat down by the lake and when he lighted his pipe 
his hand shook. Much depended on his persuading 
Caverhill, but it looked as if the rancher was keener 
than he had thought. Then he saw he must, for a 
time, run some risk. Maxwell, however, was am¬ 
bitious and had, so far, made good; if he could 
carry out his plan, he ought to get rich. He re¬ 
solved to face the risk and push ahead. 


V 


HELEN TRIES HER POWER 

/T AXWELL did not return from his office one 
evening, and Helen went to the veranda in 
front of the small frame house. Vancouver was 
growing fast and big dark pines rolled back from 
the end of the new street The other end went 
across the top of a hill, and one saw descending 
roofs and the smoke from the sawmill stacks by 
the water-front. In the background, across the 
Inlet, were wooded hills and shining snow. 

The houses were built of shiplap boards and 
fronted narrow garden lots. They were decorated 
by mill-sawn scrolls and tapered pillars, but the 
model, reproduced all along the street, got monoto¬ 
nous, and Helen thought their neatness dreary. 
Although she had not long since occupied a primi¬ 
tive shack, the thrill of adventure was gone, and 
sometimes she thought about the spaciousness and 
quiet of the big house by the English cathedral. 
In the Old Country one did not hear one’s neigh¬ 
bors’ gramophones and sometimes their disputes. 
Then to cook and clean the house had now not 
much charm. 

Helen wondered why Maxwell did not arrive. 

40 


HELEN TRIES HER POWER 41 


His habit was to return for supper, although she 
knew he was occupied by his plans for the settle¬ 
ment at Shadow Lake. He admitted he saw awk¬ 
ward obstacles, but declared that if Caverhill sup¬ 
ported him, he could make the undertaking go 
and they would soon get rich. In fact, Harry had 
talked rather much about Caverhill’s support. 
Helen owned she would like to get rich, but she 
thought she was really keener to help her brother. 
He was kind and when she rebelled against her 
English relations’ stern control he gave her free¬ 
dom. Besides, Harry had talents he ought to 
use. 

Then she began to muse about Caverhill. He 
frankly attracted her, although she doubted if the 
attraction went very deep. She approved his sober 
calm; he was a handsome, athletic fellow, and she 
liked strength and pluck. The big, austere home¬ 
stead and the quiet woods were his proper back¬ 
ground. His rule was primitive, but she thought 
it just and firm. Helen wondered whether she 
would be satisfied to live at Shadow Lake, and then 
she blushed and admitted she was ridiculous. All 
the same, the picture had some charm. 

After the spaciousness and brooding calm at the 
ranch, the rows of small houses were shabby. 
Their occupants were not people Helen wanted to 
know, but unless Harry carried out his plan, she 
must be resigned. Although Maxwell was now 


42 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Duff’s partner, his share was not large and the 
house was embarrassed for money. Caverhill’s 
help was important, and Helen wondered whether 
she could persuade him. Somehow she thought- 

She started, for Caverhill came round the corner 
of a block. He looked about, and seeing Helen, 
crossed the street. 

“Has your brother arrived?” he asked. “Duff 
was not at the office and a clerk stated Mr. Maxwell 
had gone.” 

Helen said she expected Harry and indicated a 
chair. The veranda was two or three yards long 
and Bob thought if Maxwell put up mosquito 
screens it would resemble a rather large meat-safe. 
The pillars were not as thick as his arm and he felt 
if he leaned against the boards he might go through 
the wall. In fact, the house was not the sort of 
house a girl like Helen ought to occupy, and he 
doubtfully studied the cracked chair. 

“I don’t think the chair will let you down, but 
you mustn’t push it about rashly,” Helen smiled. 
“Our furniture has not the solidity one notes at 
Shadow Lake.” 

“Oh, well, I carry some weight,” said Bob. “In 
the bush, we’re rather a crude lot and I expect our 
houses reflect our character.” 

“I didn’t think you crude,” said Helen. “Per¬ 
haps I did feel you were patriarchal-” 

Bob looked up as if he were puzzled and she re- 




HELEN TRIES HER POWER 43 


sumed with a smile: “I did not imply that you, 
yourself, were old; perhaps Homeric is the proper 
word. At Shadow Lake one can picture the brac¬ 
ing life of the nomad herdsmen in the old spacious 
days. I liked the ranch. All one sees there is big 
and strong and somehow dignified.” 

Bob’s heart beat. The women he had known were 
not numerous and Helen’s charm was marked. He 
approved her fashionable summer clothes, her finely 
molded slenderness, and her unconscious grace. 
Then she wore the stamp of cultivation and he 
knew her keen and enthusiastic. He had not 
thought a girl like that could stand for the quiet 
in the woods, but it looked as if Helen might do 
so. Then he thought she knew he studied her, for 
a touch of color came to her skin. 

“I don’t see Harry yet,” she remarked. 

“Looks as if he’d met somebody who wanted a 
building lot and went to the fellow’s hotel. I 
rather wanted to see Maxwell, but no doubt I’ll find 
him in the morning. Will you come up town for 
supper? Then we might get an automobile and 
drive in the park?” 

Helen hesitated, although she wanted to go. “I 
don’t think Harry will be long. Did you state when 
you would reach the office?” 

“All I stated was, I was coming to town. If 
Maxwell had looked up the company’s folder, he’d 
have known when the boat arrived.” 


44 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Since Helen knew Harry wanted to meet Caver- 
hill, she thought it strange he had not studied the 
time-table, but she said, “Perhaps you ought to wait 
and I will give you supper. Ours is spoiling.” 

“Why, I’d be delighted!” said Bob. 

A few minutes afterwards Helen called him in. 
The dining-room was very small, and although he 
thought the furniture pretty it was frail and cheap. 
In fact, the house was ridiculously like a doll’s 
house. For Helen to be satisfied was impossible, 
but she did not grumble. Then the meal was well 
served and although it was not like the rude feasts 
at Shadow Lake, Bob noted that the food was 
good. 

“Did you cook these things?” he asked. 

“Of course,” said Helen, smiling. 

“But I imagined in England your type didn’t 
cook.” 

“When I joined Harry his pay would not meet 
our bills for board,” Helen replied. “Since crack¬ 
ers and canned meat got monotonous, I bought a 
kerosene stove and a cookery book and began to 
experiment. After all, I don’t know if to cook is 
much harder than to chop big trees.” 

Bob thought her experimenting typical. She had 
undertaken to see Maxwell out; and when Helen 
undertook a job she tried to make good. He was 
glad he had stayed. Sometimes the ranch was 
dreary and to sit opposite Helen across the narrow 


HELEN TRIES HER POWER 45 


table had charm. He liked to watch her small firm 
hands and her graceful movements when she gave 
him a cup or plate; he liked the amusement that 
twinkled in her black eyes. 

Helen was not altogether amused. She saw Cav- 
erhill studied her and sometimes she saw his mouth 
get tight. She did not know much about him, but 
all she knew she approved; then she approved his 
athletic figure, his brown skin, and his steady glance. 
When supper was over Bob wanted to help her 
wash and put away the dishes, but Helen firmly re¬ 
fused. For one thing, she hesitated to risk the 
intimate, domestic touch his helping would give. 
Yet, for her brother’s sake, something must be 
risked. 

They went to the veranda and Helen gave Bob 
a cigarette. The sun was near the pine-tops and the 
snow across the Inlet was getting blue. The water 
shone like glass and the smoke from the sawmill 
stacks streaked the calm green sky. A steamer, 
steering for the Narrows, trailed a broad white 
wake. They heard her whistle and locomotive bells 
by the wharf. Helen did not know if she wanted 
Maxwell to arrive. 

“I suppose you meant to talk to Harry about the 
new settlement,” she said. “Are you going to join 
us?” 

“I don’t know; I haven’t yet got the plans.” 

“But you’re not very keen?” 


46 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

“That is so,” Bob admitted. “Perhaps I’m not 
logical, for when your brother stated I ought not 
to hold up land needed for manufacturing I agreed. 
All the same, I’d sooner not cut up the ranch. You 
see, my job is not to sell building lots.” 

“Your talent is constructive; you feel you ought 
to break fresh soil and make crops grow? Well, 
some people’s business is to make things, but some 
must sell the goods. For them to trade is useful 
and proper.” 

“Why, of course!” said Bob and smiled. 

“Yet, like the old Greek herdsmen we talked 
about, you rather despise the traders? You feel a 
Canadian’s business is to conquer the wilds?” 

“In the bush we’re not up to date and perhaps 
we’re an exclusive lot. Anyhow, the nomad herds¬ 
men didn’t stop to conquer the wilds. When the 
water began to dry up they moved on and pushed 
another fellow off the springs. They fought for 
water; we bore wells and build dams. Then, you 
see, although we grow the fruit and raise the cattle, 
the merchants, for the most part, get the money. 
Trade is useful, but sometimes I think the greedy 
speculations our city men frame up are the biggest 
obstacles to Canada’s advance.” 

Helen smiled. Caverhill had tried to play up and 
she liked his humor, but she saw he was moved. 
All the same, she was her brother’s champion. If 
she could persuade Caverhill, some of Harry’s em- 


HELEN TRIES HER POWER 47 

barrassments would vanish, and she was willing to 
try her power. 

“My brother means to build a dam at Shadow 
Lake,” she said. “His main object is not to sell 
house-lots. He wants to put up a pulp-mill and 
start useful industries.” 

“That’s another thing,” Bob agreed and was 
quiet. 

Since Helen wanted nothing for herself, he ap¬ 
proved her urging him. It was not that he weighed 
her arguments; her friendly smile and her trust 
accounted for much. Somehow she indicated that 
she knew he would not refuse. 

“Very well,” Helen resumed, and a touch of color 
came to her skin. “Harry and Duff want to build 
factories; but, unless you are willing, they cannot 
start. Don’t you think you ought to agree? I 
ought not to bother you about it, but Harry must 
get your help and I am very keen. Somehow I feel 
you will agree.” 

Bob thrilled. He had thought Helen was the girl 
for him before; now he knew. In some respects, 
he was primitive and his impulse was to claim her 
and carry her off, but he was not a fool. She was 
fastidious, and, if he helped Maxwell, he must not 
demand a reward. He weighed another thing; if 
the factories were built, she would not think it 
lonely in the woods. 

“In the morning I will see your brother,” he said. 


48 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“If I think he can put the scheme across, I may 
risk the plunge. Now, if you won’t come to the 
park, I must go.” 

Helen gave him her hand and her eyes sparkled. 
Bob wanted to take her in his arms. 

“I like your pluck and Harry will soon persuade 
you his plan will work,” she said and let him go. 

When Bob had gone Helen carried off the dishes 
and got her dishpan. Although she had so far 
cheerfully undertaken her household tasks, she 
began to feel she hated her coarse apron and the 
greasy water. Her ambition was excited. To build 
the new settlement would carry Harry far, but 
Helen blushed and admitted that Harry’s prosperity 
was not all she thought about. She saw herself 
mistress at Shadow Lake and the picture was attrac¬ 
tive. Yet when she pondered marrying Bob she 
hesitated. 

By and by Maxwell arrived and she noted that 
he gave her a keen glance. 

“I’m glad you didn’t keep supper back,” he said. 
“When I was leaving the office I got a ’phone call.” 

“Did you not know Caverhill was in town?” 

“Then Caverhill was here?” said Maxwell, as if 
he were surprised. “I expected him in the morn¬ 
ing. Anyhow, an important customer wanted me 

to dine at his hotel-” He stopped and resumed 

with a laugh: “It looks as if Caverhill had got my 
supper. Did he talk?” 



HELEN TRIES HER POWER 49 

Helen imagined his carelessness was forced, but 
she understood his curiosity. 

“Mr. Caverhill talked about the new settlement. 
If he thinks your plans are good, he will join 
you.” 

“By George! You have put it over!” said Max¬ 
well and his eyes sparkled. “The fellow’s slow and 
cautious; I’d begun to doubt if he could be moved. 
Perhaps I was lucky because Evans called me to 
the hotel.” 

His satisfaction jarred. Helen saw he took it for 
granted she had persuaded Caverhill and somehow 
her triumph looked shabby. 

“I expect much depends on the plans, and you 
must talk to Mr. Caverhill at the office,” she said 
with a touch of sharpness. 

Maxwell looked at her rather hard and hesitated. 
Helen said nothing and went to the veranda. 

The moon was rising and a silver track stretched 
across the Inlet and touched the anchored ships. In 
the next house a gramophone made a jarring noise 
and across the street somebody played a fiddle out 
of tune. Helen frowned and thought about the 
quiet homestead in the woods. She knew she had 
meant to persuade Caverhill, but now she had done 
so she was disturbed. For one thing, she saw her 
arguments were not important; she had conquered 
because Caverhill loved her. Then she wondered 
whether Maxwell had reckoned on something like 


50 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


this. Perhaps she had some grounds to imagine it 
and she felt humiliated. 

After all, she really did not know much about 
her brother. When she was at the gloomy house 
by the cathedral, Harry, for the most part, was at 
a famous school. Now she thought about it, she 
had tried to be kind because her relations were not. 
In fact, when Harry returned for holidays their 
looks got sterner, and Helen wondered whether his 
house-master’s report accounted for their disap¬ 
proval. Then she admitted he had not altogether 
accounted for his leaving the university. 

Helen stopped. She must not dwell upon her 
brother’s supposititious drawbacks. His talents and 
charm were marked and she owed him much. 
When her guardians’ harsh control got insupport¬ 
able, Harry had sent for her and given her freedom. 


VI 


MAXWELL TRUSTS HIS LUCK 

T"\UFF’S breakfast was on the table, but he had 
not much appetite and did not want to get 
out of his easy-chair by a window at his new house. 
In front were three or four big maples and the 
shadows of their broad leaves checkered the gravel 
walk; a noble cedar spread its branches across the 
lawn. The wooden house was small, but the archi¬ 
tect’s design was good and although the mill-cut 
decorations were rather numerous, the front was 
picturesque. 

For long Duff’s ambition was to own a house 
like that, but now he did so, he was not content. 
Only on Sundays had he leisure to potter about his 
garden and talk to his wife: he wanted to cut out 
business and buy a fruit ranch. As a rule, he was 
at his office about eight o’clock, and after his clerks 
locked up he was forced to meet people at the 
hotels. The strain had recently got worse, and 
although his fishing excursion braced him, a reac¬ 
tion soon began. Duff, however, stuck to his desk, 
until one evening a friendly customer brought him 
home in an automobile. 


51 


52 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Duff admitted that his head ached and he was 
strangely languid, but he declared a night’s sleep 
would put all straight. In the morning it cost him 
something to get up and Mrs. Duff telephoned for 
a doctor. Now he resigned himself to wait for the 
doctor and tried to smoke, although the tobacco 
did not taste good. 

“I expect my loafing about is ridiculous and until 
I open the letters the clerks can’t get busy,” he 
grumbled. “All the same, I’m tired and Maxwell 
hits up the pace. Doesn’t look as if it bothered him, 
but he is young and I carry some weight.” 

Mrs. Duff imagined her husband’s remark justi¬ 
fied. Tom’s stanch honesty was, no doubt, some¬ 
thing of a load, and if speed were important, she 
rather thought Maxwell would travel light. Yet 
she was persuaded Maxwell owed much to her hus¬ 
band’s help. Harry made the plans, but his plans, 
although clever, were rather vague; Tom studied 
things the other neglected and laboriously removed 
the obstacles. 

“I liked it in the woods and wanted to stay an¬ 
other week, but Harry hustled us back,” he resumed. 
“It was long since I went off for a holiday-” 

“Then, you think it was altogether a holiday 
excursion ?” 

“Oh, well. When we started Maxwell may have 
had an object, and perhaps he quietly steered us 
for Shadow Lake,” Duff replied. “Anyhow, I 



MAXWELL TRUSTS HIS LUCK 53 


ought to have gone to the office. Caverhill’s in 
town-” 

The telephone rang and Mrs. Duff went to an¬ 
other room and shut the door. When she returned 
she said, “Maxwell wanted to know if you had 
started and I replied that you could not get down. 
Then the doctor called. He expects to see you in 
about ten minutes.” 

Duff knew something about his wife’s methods 
and he looked at her rather hard, but he was lan¬ 
guid and let it go. Mrs. Duff had stated that her 
husband was ill and must not be disturbed. Soon 
afterwards the doctor arrived and told Duff he must 
go away for two or three months. 

“You have got to stop right now and take a rest,” 
he said. “When we have braced you up a little, 
you must quit Vancouver. Go North, for example, 
on board the Alaska tourist boat and loaf about. 
If you’re a sport, you might take a gun and a 
fishing-rod.” 

“I expect we are going to start a big job in the 
woods,” Duff replied. “Suppose I went to the sur¬ 
veyors’ camp?” 

“It wouldn’t work,” said the doctor firmly. “If 
you don’t stop now, you’ll soon stop for good. 
Start for the North and see the glaciers.” 

“We have glaciers in British Columbia and good 
mountain hotels at Banff.” 

“That is so,” said the doctor. “The trouble is, 



54 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


we have got telephones and telegraphs. When you 
pull out, your clerks must not send you night- 
letters. ,, 

He went off and Duff forced a smile. “My 
luck is bad, but perhaps my partner has got his 
chance. Anyhow, Fm tired and must try to be 
resigned.” 

Maxwell, waiting for Caverhill at the office, 
smoked his pipe and pondered. Although his habit 
was not to hesitate, he rather shrank from the 
plunge he meant to take. So far, he had gone where 
he wanted to go, but he admitted he had run some 
risks, and an adventure at Oxford had come near 
breaking him. Now he contemplated another that, 
if his nerve were good, ought to mend his fortune, 
for Maxwell had known poverty. 

To sell a ranch for building lots is a profitable 
transaction and in Western Canada people are 
willing to speculate. A new settlement calls the 
adventurous, who know it may soon grow to a 
thriving town. But in order to start a settlement, 
trade or manufactures are needed. 

There was the trouble. At Shadow Lake the 
back blocks for the most part were virgin forest, 
useful minerals had not been found, and to build 
a factory costs much. Duff’s was not rich, and 
although Caverhill might agree to take shares for 
the land he sold, he had stated he would not invest. 
Maxwell thought he could get money, but the men 


MAXWELL TRUSTS HIS LUCK 55 

with whom he negotiated had not yet agreed to give 
him their support. 

Moreover Duff’s caution was a drawback. Tom 
was slow, but he was obstinate, and Maxwell im¬ 
agined he would not approve his plans. Still, if 

Tom did not altogether see where the plans led- 

Maxwell thought if he were left alone, he could 
make good, but he must be left alone and he specu¬ 
lated about his clerks. 

Miss Bell was a first-class stenographer, but she 
typed the letters mechanically; Davies and two 
others concentrated on a baseball club. Willard, 
however, knew his job, and if Maxwell’s operations 
excited his curiosity, it might be awkward. Max¬ 
well admitted he would rather have a duller clerk. 

He pulled out his watch, and picking up the tele¬ 
phone, inquired if Duff were starting soon. When 
Mrs. Duff replied that her husband was ill, he was 
sorry for Tom, but he felt that if Duff were forced 
to remain away until Caverhill left town he would 
be resigned. 

Soon afterwards Willard came in and gave Max¬ 
well an apologetic look. 

“I have been with Duff’s for some time and don’t 
altogether want to quit, but Jackson wants me to 
join him and his proposition’s pretty good,” he said. 
“Since Mr. Duff is not coming down, perhaps you 
would state-” 

Maxwell hid his satisfaction. “If you are re- 




56 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


solved to take Jackson’s post, to state you are a first- 
class clerk will give me some pleasure. But are you 
resolved ?” 

'‘The post carries good pay. I don’t want to 
put it up to you that I don’t get enough; besides, 
I reckon your pay-roll’s as high as the house can 
stand for.” 

“That is so,” Maxwell agreed. “Very well, I’ll 
go across to Jackson’s and tell him I’ve good 
grounds to think he’ll be satisfied wfith you.” 

Willard thanked him, and when the clerk went 
off Maxwell’s relief was keen. One obstacle was 
removed and perhaps the other would not bother 
him as much as he had thought. Half an hour 
afterwards he heard the telephone and Mrs. Duff 
stated that the doctor was sending her husband 
away. As soon as possible she would call Max¬ 
well over to make arrangements, but in the mean¬ 
time they must not disturb Tom. 

When Maxwell put down the telephone his eyes 
sparkled. The obstacle was removed and he could 
go ahead. For two or three months his partner 
would not bother him and when Tom returned all 
would be put straight. Then a clerk opened the 
door and Caverhill came in. 

For a few moments Bob studied the maps on the 
wall. One represented a survey of virgin country. 
Thin lines stood for wagon trails and supposititious 


MAXWELL TRUSTS HIS LUCK 57 

railroads; circles indicated spots where towns would 
be built. Another was a map of a real new town, 
and a perspective drawing beside it depicted rows 
of pretty wooden houses, offices and churches that 
had sprung up in a few months. 

Bob was a Western Canadian, and now railroads 
and settlements have pushed back the trapper and 
placer miner to the North, the pioneer finds a fresh 
field in industrial developments. The maps inter¬ 
ested Bob, but he turned to Maxwell. 

“Some time ago I stated I’d consider your plans 
for using the water-front block at the ranch. I’m 
ready to do so. You can go ahead.” 

Maxwell began to talk. To satisfy his customers 
he can supply the land they want is the real estate 
agent’s business, and Maxwell had a talent for per¬ 
suasion. He knew when to use one argument and 
when another would carry weight; sometimes he 
worked on a speculator’s confidence and sometimes 
on his greed. Now he talked to Bob, he was quietly 
logical and, on the surface, frank. 

On the whole, Bob thought the plan would work, 
but somehow he hesitated. For one thing, he noted 
Maxwell’s cleverness. All the same, if the other 
could satisfy him, he had agreed to join. 

“The ranch was my father’s, and now it’s mine 
I’m accountable for making good his job,” he said. 
“I have no use for cutting up the best block in order 


58 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


to sell town-lots to fools who might afterwards 
claim we cheated them. My stipulation is, the set¬ 
tlement must go.” 

“If you start a settlement properly, it, so to speak, 
goes itself,” Maxwell replied. “When you have got 
a row of houses you want a store. To supply the 
store you want a freighter, and, to help him haul 
his load, a road-grading gang. Then other folks 
arrive to look for homestead blocks and timber 
rights, and you must put up a hotel. The thing 
goes on!” 

“In a way, that is so. The thing goes so long 
as the money that speculators supply does not stop. 
But after the money does stop the settlement must 
depend on trade and manufacturers. Well, your 
plan for a wood-pulp plant is pretty good, but the 
cost is high and we’d need money. What about 
Alsager? Has he agreed to join us?” 

“He has not agreed,” said Maxwell frankly. 
“I expect to persuade him and I am negotiating 
with some others who might put up a good sum. 
In the meantime, my notion is, for us to build a 
dam and power-house and sell the mill-site. When 
we had got the turbines and dynamos we could 
supply electric current, and to know you can rent 
cheap power is a useful argument for building a 
factory.” 

Bob knitted his brows. As a rule, a bush-rancher 
is something of an engineer and cuts new roads and 


MAXWELL TRUSTS HIS LUCK 59 


builds log-bridges for the Government. Bob rather 
thought he could build a dam that would not cost 
very much. 

“Before we get busy the Government people 
must approve. Have you filed your papers?” 

“Not yet; one must state all particulars and 
measurements. There’s another thing; the Govern¬ 
ment may give us a road-making grant and I mean 
to look up the member for your district. His busi¬ 
ness is to get appropriations for his supporters. 
When you vote for a fellow, you expect him to give 
you a job.” 

“Looks as if you knew something about our poli¬ 
ticians!” Bob remarked. 

Maxwell laughed. “Oh, well, your methods are 
business-like and, by comparison, cheap. In the 
Old Country, ours are expensive, although I doubt 
if much of the money goes for graft. Anyhow, I 
expect we can satisfy the land-office and I must 
try to interest the newspapers. They could help us 
start a boom.” 

“I don’t want a boom; I want steady progress 
on sound lines,” said Bob. “Well, you can get to 
work. I’m staying in town for a time and when 
you have drawn up an agreement I’ll transfer the 
block you want.” 

He went off soon afterwards and Maxwell put 
up his plans and leaned on his desk. Now the sus¬ 
pense was over, he knew he had borne some strain, 


60 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


and he imagined the strain would get worse. For 
all that, his luck, so far, was good and he must 
brace up and go ahead. The trouble was, he was 
excited and could not concentrate. Bright sun¬ 
beams touched the wall and he thought about the 
woods. Perhaps he was entitled to celebrate his 
triumph by a holiday and after hesitating for a 
minute or two he picked up the telephone and or¬ 
dered a car. 


VII 


MAXWELL RELAXES 

A T an awkward crossing a street car forced Max- 
* well’s automobile against the sidewalk. In 
front a transfer wagon blocked the way, and up 
the hill opposite a straining team hauled a load of 
lumber from a yard. The hill was Maxwell’s line 
home and he had meant to call for Helen and go 
for a picnic in the woods, but now he was forced 
to wait, he weighed another plan. 

A fresh breeze blew up the street from the spark¬ 
ling Inlet, the sun was on the tall office blocks, and 
Maxwell’s mood was buoyant. For some time he 
had used strenuous effort and borne keen suspense, 
and now he thought himself entitled to a holiday. 
Helen had helped him nobly, but Helen was fas¬ 
tidious and when she was with him he could not 
altogether relax. He resolved to put off their ex¬ 
cursion and go for Coral. Coral was frankly not 
Helen’s sort, but she was a sport. 

The transfer wagon pulled out, Maxwell started 
the engine, and when the car rolled ahead recap¬ 
tured something of the boyish carelessness he had 
known in England. After all, he was young and 

the sobriety he had, for the most part, used in 

61 


62 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Canada was irksome. He liked adventures and as 
a rule had followed his bent; in fact, an adventure 
at Oxford accounted for his starting for Montreal. 

After a time the car plunged into the woods. 
Great pines spread their branches across the road; 
in places a Douglas fir thrust up to the light a trunk 
like a giant column. Trembling reflections pierced 
the gloom and sometimes a dazzling beam touched 
the car. Maxwell smelt the sweet resinous smells 
and let the engine go. He admitted he was perhaps 
rash, but in the morning he must get to work and 
he would be occupied for long. 

At length he stopped in front of a small road¬ 
house. The house was used by automobilists, but 
the day was not a holiday and it looked as if no¬ 
body were about. 

Maxwell pulled back a mosquito guard, and went 
into the bar. The room was rather dark and smelt 
of liquor and cigars. When the spring door shut, 
a man wiping glasses at the counter turned his head. 
He was a strongly built fellow and wore a white 
shirt and new store clothes. His look was quick 
and resolute, but when he saw Maxwell it got 
thoughtful. 

“Hello!” he said. “You sure started early! 
Nothing doing in town?” 

“The day’s fine and I found I could get a few 
hours off,” Maxwell replied. “I wondered whether 
Coral would like a ride in my car. Is she about?” 


MAXWELL RELAXES 


63 


“She’s cleaning house,” said the other and frankly 
studied Maxwell. Then he went to a shelf for a 

bottle. “Take a drink and I’ll go see-” 

He went off and Maxwell frowned. After the 
sweet smell of the pines, the stale cigar smoke 
jarred. Besides, he knew the bottle was not taken 
down for ordinary customers and he thought 
Ellmer’s putting it in front of him significant. In 
fact, Maxwell admitted he was something of a fool, 
but he had for some time gone soberly and to be 
rash for an hour or two was a relief. He took a 
drink and by and by Ellmer returned. 

“When Coral’s fixed she’ll come along,” he said, 
and leaned against the bar. “The boys allow you 
make things go in town.” 

“People are speculating in real estate,” Maxwell 
agreed in a careless voice, for he did not mean to 
satisfy the other’s curiosity. “If you want a good 
corner lot, we have one or two.” 

“I’m not buying yet,” said Ellmer. “By and by 
I might look around for a hotel site in a new town. 
Nothing much is doing in the woods and I want 
to put Coral where she’d get some society. The 

girl’s smart and if she got a fighting chance-” 

He stopped and resumed: “Coral has not much use 
for the boys who jump off to get a drink Saturday 
evenings. Anyhow, if you spot a cheap frontage 
at a settlement you think will grow, you can put 
me wise.” 




64 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


He began to sweep up the cigar-ends and Max¬ 
well went to the door. Ellmer’s plans for his 
daughter did not interest him, but the fellow’s 
frankness was disturbing. For all that, when a girl 
came out of the house Maxwell’s hesitation van¬ 
ished. Coral Ellmer was tall and her figure was 
firmly lined. Her eyes were large and black, her 
mouth was firm and very red. One got a hint of 
keenness and resolution. Her hat and clothes were 
fashionable; in fact, Maxwell imagined she went as 
far as fashion allowed. Although her beauty was 
not at all refined, she had beauty. 

“Why!” she said, “it’s a long while since you 
looked us up. I’d ’most forgotten you.” 

“To think you could forget me hurts,” Maxwell 
rejoined. “I wanted to drive over, but we’re occu¬ 
pied at the office.” 

“Then, trade’s pretty good? You’re selling 
suckers lots at some town site that’s going to stay 
a site?” 

“Not at all. We let the other fellows take that 
line. When you deal at Duff’s you get the goods.” 

“The boys allow Duff’s is a pretty good house. 
I like people who give you a square deal,” said 
Coral and looked at Maxwell rather hard. Then 
she went to the car. “She’s a daisy! Is she 
yours ?” 

Maxwell thought her remarks indicated that she 
had inquired about Duff’s. Moreover, Ellmer was 


MAXWELL RELAXES 


65 


curious about the house’s progress. In fact, their 
curiosity was rather naive, but for the most part 
the Canadians Maxwell knew were not subtle. 
They were blunt and perhaps it was important that 
they were determined. 

“I can’t yet buy a car,” he replied carelessly. 
“But get in and let’s start.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“I thought we might load up some lunch at the 
settlement, and picnic in the woods. We might get 
supper at Westminster and come back in the 
evening.” 

“No,” said Coral firmly. “No day in the woods 
for mine! We’ll go to town and you can give me 
lunch at a restaurant. Then we’ll ride in the park, 
and since you like it in the woods, we might run 
out for supper to the Leighton Hotel.” 

To drive Coral about Vancouver was not Max¬ 
well’s plan, but he agreed, and when he started the 
engine she gave him a smile. 

“Sometimes I like you, Harry,” she remarked. 

Maxwell played up. Coral was a sport, but al¬ 
though she joked and laughed, he imagined she 
used some reserve. By and by he reached a spot 
where a tractor had torn the soft dirt-road and he 
slowed the car. For a short distance the trees were 
cut back and a small log-house occupied the middle 
of a clearing. Near the split-rail fence, a muscular 
young fellow pulled a saw through a big hemlock 


66 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


trunk. When the car rolled up he wiped the sweat 
from his hot face and waved his hand. A few 
yards back, a woman and a little girl gathered black 
raspberries. They stopped for a moment and the 
woman smiled. In the background a blue-grouse 
drummed and one heard wood-pigeons. 

The picture’s quiet charm moved Maxwell. It 
stood for useful effort and domestic peace. The 
strain the rancher bore was physical and when he 
got up in the morning it was gone. He was not 
forced to face daunting risks. The woods in which 
he labored were his and so long as the clearing grew 
he was satisfied. Then it looked as if the woman 
was happy; Maxwell remarked her serene smile. 
He turned and saw Coral’s look was thoughtful. 

“When the real estate boom is over I must buy 
a ranch,” he said. 

“You’re not a fool and I expect you’ll stay with 
Duff’s,” Coral rejoined. “Ranching’s not your 
job. I reckon it’s not mine.” 

Maxwell laughed. “Oh, well; but I think you 
ought to have played up.” 

“These folks aren’t playing,” Coral remarked. 
“Jim’s working off his mortgage and when he’s 
home he must chop and saw as long as he can see, 
but sometimes he gets a railroad job and pulls out 
for three or four months. His pay goes to clear 
the mortgage and I guess there’s not much left for 
groceries. Sadie raises chickens and garden truck, 


MAXWELL RELAXES 


67 


watches the young stock and burns the branches in 
the slashing. Sometimes she and Jim ride over to 
town in the wagon Saturday evenings; but that’s 
all. Curious thing is, Sadie likes it at the ranch 

- Well, the road’s pretty good now. Aren’t 

you going to speed up?” 

Maxwell let the engine go and fixed his glance 
ahead. Big red trunks rolled by, the rocking car 
plunged into belts of gloom and, with glass and 
metal flashing, leaped across pools of yellow light. 
Sometimes a startled willow-grouse sprang up from 
the underbrush, and sometimes a green-and-red 
woodpecker reflected a sunbeam. Maxwell heard a 
blue-grouse’s call roll across the trees like a muffled 
drum. 

He imagined Coral did not feel the charm of the 
woods; she was ambitious and the woods stood for 
loneliness, monotony and labor. Maxwell saw she 
pondered and he did not altogether approve her 
thoughtful mood, but since she wanted to go fast 
he must concentrate on his steering. All the same, 
he speculated about Coral’s attraction; he frankly 
thought it physical, but he knew other handsome 
girls who bored him. Coral did not bore him, 
although she sometimes jarred. Anyhow, he was 
attracted, and since Coral was not the girl for him, 
he must use some caution. 

When Vancouver was not far off he asked, 
^Where shall we go first?” 



68 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“You can stop on Main Street; I want to see the 
stores/’ Coral replied. 

They stopped at a jeweler’s shop and Maxwell, 
buying a small present, was rewarded by Coral’s 
delight. Then he was forced to loaf about two or 
three drygoods stores and he noted that Coral was 
a remarkably keen buyer. At one store she began 
a spirited dispute about some material. 

“My bills are good and I want the stuff standard 
width,” she said. “If I take this lot, I’m going to 
cut your price three dollars.” 

The saleswoman firmly refused and Maxwell, 
getting embarrassed, gave Coral his wallet. Coral 
pushed it back and laughed. 

“You can’t buy my clothes. You want to qo 
slow .” 

“I think I’ll go out,” said Maxwell, who saw the 
saleswoman’s twinkle and knew Coral’s humor 
sometimes was not refined. 

Yet he was rather amused than annoyed. Coral, 
disputing with the shop people, was an attractive 
picture. When she was excited, her color was a 
splendid rose, her mouth got very red and her black 
eyes snapped. Then she was marked by a strange 
naive haughtiness. Her haughtiness did not spring 
from a sense of social importance, because Coral 
was not important, but from pluck and confidence. 
By and by she joined Maxwell and gave him a 
parcel. 


MAXWELL RELAXES 


69 


“They brought the department boss, but in about 
two minutes I had him beat,” she said. “Well, I 
want some food and then we’ll ride round the park. 
What about trying the Summerland?” 

Maxwell would sooner have gone to another res¬ 
taurant and omitted the drive in the park. For one 
thing, Vancouver was not a very large city, and he 
imagined a number of the young automobilists who 
used the Summerland knew Coral; but it was not 
important. Moreover, he knew what Coral wanted 
to do she did. 

They got lunch at the Summerland and drove 
under the giant firs in the park. Nature had 
planted the belt of tremendous forest and when the 
first gold-hunters sailed up the Straits the trees 
were very old. 

In the evening they started for a new hotel auto^ 
mobile parties used. The wooden building was pic¬ 
turesque and the deep veranda commanded a shady 
lawn cut out of the woods. Behind the veranda 
Moorish arches opened to the big dining-room; 
inside were rows of decorated pillars, quiet nooks, 
and a polished floor. 

Since the day was not a holiday, only two or 
three groups occupied the room. Maxwell ordered 
supper and presently two people went to a table by 
an arch. The man turned and when he pulled back 
a chair for his companion, Maxwell saw they were 
Helen and Caverhill. He had not reckoned on his 


70 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


meeting Helen, but the room was spacious and 
Coral did not know the others. 

His luck was not good. Caverhill, motioning to 
a waiter, stood by Helen’s chair. His pose was 
easy. One noticed the finely drawn lines of his 
athletic figure, his balance and the tilt of his head. 
Coral gave him an approving look. 

“That fellow’s a bushman and a pretty good type. 
You can see his brown skin and you know a chopper 
by his shoulders and waist. All the same, he’s a 
boss; I reckon he’s got a big ranch in the woods. 
I like him, but I expect he’s took a shine to the 
other girl.” 

Maxwell rather thought Coral’s remark justified, 
for when Caverhill sent off the waiter and turned 
to Helen his look, so to speak, was respectfully pro¬ 
tective. Helen gave him a smile and Maxwell noted 
that a touch of color had come to her skin and her 
eyes were bright. Her clothes were fashionable, but 
the fashion was not marked. Helen looked culti¬ 
vated, rather proud, and somehow thoroughbred. 

“The girl’s certainly a looker,” Coral went on in 
a critical voice. “Perhaps it’s her clothes; she’s not 
built up big and strong like me. A highbrow, I 

guess, but some fellows like that sort-” She 

stopped and resumed with surprise: “Why, she 
knows you!” 

Maxwell imagined Helen had not altogether 
wanted to know him and he saw she did not indi- 



MAXWELL RELAXES 71 

cate to Caverhill that he was about. His luck was 
obviously bad, but he must play up. 

“She is my sister,” he replied. 

“Well!” said Coral and laughed. Then she gave 
Maxwell a rather keen glance. “I didn’t know 
you’d got a sister, but I’d like to meet her. Shall 
we go along?” 

“When they have got supper we’ll join them. 
You haven’t eaten yours,” said Maxwell and was 
satisfied with his argument, for Coral’s appetite was 
good. 

After supper he lighted a cigarette and wondered 
whether Helen would go, but she did not, and at 
length he got up. 

“You wanted to know my sister?” 

They crossed the floor, and when Maxwell pre¬ 
sented Coral, Helen’s smile was polite, but this was 
all. She felt that so long as she did not let Harry 
down he must be satisfied. In England she had 
rebelled against her guardians’ rules, and she ad¬ 
mitted that Harry was entitled to use his freedom; 
but to approve his cultivating a girl like Coral was 
another thing. She glanced at Bob and to note his 
calm look was some relief. Had she got a hint of 
amusement, she would have hated Bob. 

She began to talk in a rather languid voice and 
for a few minutes kept it up, but Coral was quiet 
and by and by looked at the watch on her wrist. 

“We must get going, Harry,” she remarked, and 


72 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


giving Helen a level glance, resumed in the slow 
bush drawl: “So pleased to meet you! Harry must 
bring you over to see us at the road-house.” 

Then she smiled at Maxwell and went off with 
her free swinging walk. Helen turned to Caver- 
hill. 

“What is a road-house?” 

“In the Old Country, I expect you call it an inn.” 

“I wonder-” said Helen, rather dryly, and 

began to talk about something else. 

Maxwell started the engine and, when Coral went 
for her coat, ran back to the bar and ordered a 
drink. He felt he needed bracing, since he imagined 
Helen had meant to be nasty and Coral knew. 
When they started Coral was quiet and her quiet¬ 
ness bothered Maxwell, because when annoyed her 
habit was to talk. In fact, he thought something 
must be risked. 

After a time he met a rancher’s wagon at an 
awkward curve. He slowed the engine and when 
the wagon rolled by put his arm round Coral. 
Coral pushed him strongly back, the car swerved, 
and leaning across in front, she seized the wheel. 
Maxwell pushed out the clutch and used the brake. 
The front wheels plunged into the brush, but the 
car stopped. Coral’s face was red and her eyes 
snapped. Maxwell smiled, rather uneasily. 

“You came near to hitting the big hemlock 
trunk,” he said. 



MAXWELL RELAXES 73 

“Let go the wheel,” said Coral. “Get off the 
car.” 

“Now you’re ridiculous!” Maxwell exclaimed. 
“Perhaps you don’t know your charm, and after 
all-” 

Coral pulled out the small leather box he had got 
at the jeweler’s. 

“It’s yours; I’ve no use for it. Get off the car. 
If you don’t hustle, I’ll put you off!” 

Maxwell jumped down and she steered the car 
into the road. Then she let the engine run, and 
clutching the little box, gave him a haughty 
glance. 

“Your trouble is, you don’t know where to stop. 
Anyhow, you can’t kiss me.” 

“It looks as if I was rash,” Maxwell agreed. 
“Still I didn’t kiss you, and if my trying was 
all-” 

He saw it was not all, for the red in Coral’s 
face got dark. 

“At the hotel I wanted to meet your sister,” she 
resumed. “You ought to have taken me right then; 
but you waited. I reckon you waited for her to go. 
Well, if I’m not your sister’s sort, you’re not mine.” 

She hesitated and then pushed in the clutch. The 
car rolled forward and Maxwell shouted: “The 
city’s some distance off and it will soon be dark.”' 

“You can take a smoke and reckon up where you 
hit the wrong track. Maybe I’ll send the car- 





74 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Coral replied and then the throb of the engine 
drowned her voice. 

Maxwell sat down on a log and tried, rather hard, 
to be philosophical, but after a few minutes he 
began to laugh. The thing was humorous and he 
thought he could account for Coral’s hesitation 
when she started the car. She had not thrown him 
.back the jewel box. 


VIII 


HELEN MAKES A PLUNGE 

A WEEK or two after her first excursion with 

^ Bob, Helen one evening occupied a corner of 
the veranda at the hotel in the woods. Bob experi¬ 
mented with the car engine and Helen noted the 
patience and care he used. For example, the tools 
and the parts he took down were put in a row, and 
Helen imagined when he started the engine all 
would be replaced. Moreover, she was satisfied the 
engine would start. 

Perhaps she was not logical, but she admitted 
that his carefulness rather jarred. Helen herself 
was keen and optimistic; she liked a bold firm stroke 
and talent that justified a plunge. Had Harry ex¬ 
perimented, he would have thrown down the tools 
in a heap and joked; but it was not important. 

Bob’s unconscious pose was good. He was rather 
lightly built but athletic; his skin was brown and 
his glance was steady. In fact, he was a handsome 
fellow and Helen knew his sobriety and control. 
Then she turned her head and glanced at the forest. 
The evening was calm and the tops of the great 
black pines cut the serene sky. One smelt resin and 
warm, damp soil. Humming-birds sparkled in the 

75 


76 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


slanting beam that touched a flowering bush, but 
back - among the massive trunks the shadows were 
deep. In -the distance cow-bells chimed. 

Helen liked the woods. The quiet and hint of 
mystery called. Besides, the woods now called her 
to a romantic adventure. Caverhill was occupied 
in the mornings at Duff’s office, but in the after¬ 
noons he stopped his car at the little house and 
carried Helen off. Sometimes they rolled through 
shadowy bush, and sometimes by dyked hayfields, 
orchards and sunny homesteads along the Fraser. 
In the background were high blue mountains, 
touched by glimmering snow. 

Helen was urged by a strange excitement and the 
excursions had charm. She had not known a com¬ 
panion like Bob before, and he had helped Harry 
and might yet help much. For all that, now the 
reckoning had come, she shrank. Bob meant to 
marry her and she saw her trying to weigh the 
advantages of the marriage was ominous. She 
approved and trusted Bob, but he had not moved 
her strongly, and if passion were a mark of love, 
she did not love him. 

Perhaps she had paid her debt to Harry, but 
when she did so she incurred another. Bob, for 
her sake, had joined the speculation and to refuse 
him his reward was shabby. There was another 
thing: to some extent, she and Harry were adven¬ 
turers, but, if she married Caverhill, she would be 


HELEN MAKES A PLUNGE 77 

an important lady at the new settlement. Although 
she admitted the argument ought not to weigh, it 
did weigh. 

Helen frowned. When she ought to think for 
her lover, she thought for herself. Caverhill at¬ 
tracted her and was marked by qualities she ap¬ 
proved, although the qualities were not hers. To 
control a man like that was much, but the thrill she 
had got when she first knew her power was going, 
and sometimes she doubted. She must not cheat 
Bob and she wondered whether she could make 
good. The rather vague phrase helped her over 
awkward ground. 

By and by Bob came to the bottom of the steps. 
His look was preoccupied and Helen thought he 
did not know his hands were greasy and spots of 
oil were on his clothes. In the bush, one did not 
bother about things like that. 

“I found out the trouble. The car will go,” he 
said. 

‘Then, perhaps we ought to start.” 

“We might stay for half an hour and then make 
home by dark. Let’s take a walk along the trail. 
In the morning I must pull out for the ranch.” 

Helen went. The woods were dim and the pines 
in the background got indistinct. But for the dis¬ 
tant chime of cow-bells all was strangely calm and 
for a time Bob was quiet. Then he said, “I meant 
to pull out when I’d fixed things with your brother. 


78 ,THE BUSH-RANCHER 

but I stayed two weeks, and now I’m forced to quit, 
I don’t want to go. Well, I’ve had a glorious holi¬ 
day. What about you ?” 

“In summer, the woods are rather glorious. I 
don’t think I have known a holiday like this before.” 

“Very well,” said Bob. “My notion is, we ought 
to try if we can keep* it up. Will you marry me, 
Helen ?” 

Helen stopped and for a moment or two faced 
him quietly. The color left her skin and her look 
was strained. Then she said, “I don’t know, Bob. 
I don’t know if I ought.” 

Bob used some control. He saw her hesitation 
was not coquetry, and since she doubted he imagined 
her doubt was justified. At the beginning her 
beauty had moved him, but he sensed in her some¬ 
thing that outweighed her physical charm. Helen 
was stanch and proud, and pride like hers shrank 
from shabbiness; it did not spring from cultivation, 
it was part of her. 

“All the same, I expect you know I loved you,” 
he remarked. 

“That is so,” Helen admitted. “Sometimes I felt 
I was rash and ought to be firm. But I was lonely 
and I frankly liked to go about with you. Still it 
doesn’t carry me very far and perhaps I ought not 
to have gone.” 

“To have you about carries me all the way,” said 
Bob. “However, if you are satisfied with me, my 


HELEN MAKES A PLUNGE 79 


business is to put you where you want to go. You 
have got ambition and your blood is red. If you 
indicate the line, I’ll try to break the trail.” 

Helen thrilled. She was ambitious and adven¬ 
ture called. Moreover, she knew Bob’s habit was 
not to boast. Obstacles did not daunt him; he was 
stubbornly tenacious. Yet marriage was a great 
adventure. 

“Ah,” she said in a quiet voice, “you don’t know 
me. I’m romantic, but I haven’t borne much strain 
and used much effort. I might not help you at the 
ranch.” 

“If that’s all, I’ll risk it,” said Bob and smiled. 
“You joined Maxwell when his pay was a small 
clerk’s. You took the plunge and made good. 
Now you face another plunge, you oughtn’t to 
hesitate.” 

“Harry made good and carried me along. 
There’s another thing: a girl ought to venture 
much for her lover, but I don’t altogether know 
myself and somehow I doubt-” 

“I think I see,” said Bob. “Well, I’m surely 
your lover and that will help. So long as you don’t 
love another-” 

The blood came to Helen’s skin and she gave him 
a hesitating glance. “I don’t love another, Bob. 
Nobody has moved me. Perhaps there’s the trou¬ 
ble; but I have not known a man I like as I like 
you.” 




80 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

“Then, I think you might risk it,” said Bob and 
took her in his arms. 

Helen’s doubts vanished. She had, rather for his 
sake than hers, tried to be just, but she was flesh 
and blood and was willing for her lover to carry 
her away. Now she had made the plunge, she must 
brace up and go forward. For all that, when they 
drove through the woods she was quiet and Bob 
did not talk much. The uneven road was getting 
dark and holes were numerous, but when he pulled 
Helen’s hand under his arm she let it stay. 

When they reached Maxwell’s house she sent Bob 
off and lighted the lamp. Her excitement was 
gone and she was bothered by a dull reaction. The 
room was very small and the furniture was cheap. 
Although she had not long since thought herself 
content, she knew she had rather been resigned. 
In fact, she felt she hated the little house, because 
she had unconsciously allowed its shabbiness to 
influence her. Then she felt she hated her neigh¬ 
bors and their gramophone whose falsetto trill 
pierced the thin wall. 

She mused about Bob. He was sober and kind. 
One could trust him and she knew he loved her. 
There was the trouble, because to some extent she 
had cheated him. At the beginning she had, for 
her brother’s sake, used her charm, but her object 
was afterwards selfish. She had tried to attract 


HELEN MAKES A PLUNGE 81 


Bob because he could give her much she was forced 
to go without. Yet it was not altogether because 
he was rich; Bob had qualities. 

Now her half-conscious plan had worked, she 
was daunted. Bob did not move her as a lover 
ought to move her, but when she tried to warn him 
he was obstinate. Helen knew his firmness, and 
since she had promised to marry him, he would not 
let her go. It looked as if there was no use in 
struggling, and if he were satisfied, perhaps her 
scruples were ridiculous. To ponder Harry’s part 
was some relief. 

For long she had been her brother’s champion, 
but she had recently begun to doubt if he were all 
she thought. Harry had a talent for understanding 
and leading others where he wanted them to go. 
He knew she attracted Caverhill, and she wondered 
whether he had used her to help his plans. For 
example, when he knew Caverhill would arrive at 
the house he had remained in town! Helen was 
humiliated and began to get angry. 

There was another thing; at the hotel in the 
woods Harry had brought a road-house girl to their 
table. Helen did not know much about Canadian 
saloons, but she knew Coral’s type and imagined 
she served drinks to loafers at the bar. Although 
Helen thought herself modern and a champion of 
freedom, she admitted she had got a nasty knock. 


82 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


To think Harry meant to marry a girl like that 
hurt, and there was not much comfort in thinking 
he did not. 

By and by she heard his step and looked up. 
Maxwell saw her mouth was tight and her glance 
was cold. 

“Hello!” he said. “If you have been alone, I’m 
sorry, but I imagined you were with Caverhill and 
I had some business-” 

“Was the business in town?” Helen inquired, 
meaningly. 

Maxwell smiled. “At the C. P. R. Hotel. My 
customer’s a jolly fellow and I stayed for some 
time, I didn’t imagine Caverhill had let you go 
and I felt I must relax. Bob was at the office two 
or three hours, and to satisfy his curiosity is some¬ 
thing of a strain.” 

“After all, Bob’s curiosity is justified; he’s giving 
you a valuable block of land,” Helen rejoined with 
a touch of sharpness, for she saw he studied her 
and thought he had an object for talking about Bob. 

“That is so,” Maxwell agreed. “However, Bob 
goes back in the morning and will not be in town 
again for a month. But perhaps you know ?” 

“I have promised to marry Bob when he returns,” 
said Helen quietly. 

The statement was flat. She did not feel .the 
thrill she ought to feel and Harry’s satisfaction 
jarred. The marriage was something he had 



HELEN MAKES A PLUNGE 83 


wanted and perhaps had worked for. He gave her 
a keen glance. 

“Bob’s a first-rate fellow: I rather think he’s all 
your husband ought to be and I’m delighted. In 
fact, I feel your coolness is strange-” 

“Oh, well. I doubt if I ought to marry Bob.” 

“Now you’re ridiculous,” Maxwell rejoined. 
“Caverhill has a number of advantages, but when 
you promised to marry him his luck was remarkably 
good.” 

“I wonder,” said Helen in a dull voice. “Per¬ 
haps had you l’eft him alone at the ranch, he would 
have been happier. Well, I’m tired; I think I won’t 
stop-” 

She went off. All was flat and she was spiritless. 
Then Harry was not kind; he had not thought 
much for her. He was satisfied because the mar¬ 
riage was good and Bob was a useful brother-in- 
law. By and by she tried to banish her moodiness. 
After all, Bob was kind and very stanch. 




IX 


THE PLAN WORKS 

A LTHOUGH the veranda was in the shadow. 

* the hot sun was on the woods and Helen smelt 
the pines. She liked the resinous scent and her 
rocking-chair was easy, but she put down her book 
and frowned. Sometimes it was lonely at Shadow 
Lake, and so long as the light was good Bob was 
not much about. For example, although she had 
got up at seven o’clock he was gone and he had not 
come back for lunch. In fact, Helen doubted if he 
would return for supper. 

At the beginning, when Bob was her lover, she 
had tried to let herself go, but the effort was hard 
and she thought Bob knew. When she not long 
since married him she could not conquer her re¬ 
serve and Bob did not try. Helen did not know 
if he were hurt, for sometimes Bob was rather in¬ 
scrutable. He played up and indulged her. In fact, 
Helen admitted he was all she had thought and she 
ought to be satisfied, but somehow her satisfaction 
was not keen. 

She looked up the valley. In the background, the 

ethereal snow-peak shone. Dark woods rolled down 

84 


THE PLAN WORKS 


85 


to the sparkling lake and the shadow of a cloud 
trailed across the water. In the foreground, tall, 
ripe oats bent in the wind, and when the slow rip¬ 
ples moved across the fields the soft yellow got 
luminous. Then Helen turned her head, and her 
look got thoughtful. 

Down the valley, smoke tossed about the trees 
and a long plume, fleecy and brown like dirty wool, 
floated across the sky. In some places, leaping 
flames pierced the shade and by the river was a high 
bank of red soil. Farther back, small, indistinct 
men and oxen moved about the tangled slashing. 
Sometimes an ax sparkled and where the trunks 
were piled pale fires burned. Then a fresh smoke 
cloud rolled up, the veranda shook, and the report 
of a blasting shot echoed in the woods. 

Maxwell’s plan had begun to work. His part 
was in the city, but Bob had control at the lake and 
Helen approved the speed at which he pushed 
ahead. She wanted Maxwell’s plan to work, al¬ 
though it was rather because she was proud than 
greedy. When she married Bob she had got, but 
had not given, much. She felt she and Harry, so 
to speak, must make good, and for Bob to get rich 
by her brother’s enterprise would help. It ac¬ 
counted for her approving Bob’s industry, but his 
concentration had some drawbacks. Although 
Helen had not wanted a passionate lover, she did 
not want to be left alone. 


86 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


By and by a neighbor crossed the clearing. Mrs. 
Grey and her husband occupied a small homestead 
at the bottom of the mountains. The timber on the 
ranch was thick and the land Grey had cleared only 
carried a few head of stock. Helen imagined Mrs. 
Grey was forced to labor in the fields and she was 
sorry for the tired woman. When the other came 
up the steps she fetched an easy-chair. 

“Has my husband been around ?” Mrs. Grey 
inquired. 

Helen said Grey had not arrived and the other’s 
look indicated some relief. 

“Maybe Tom went after the cows, but I reckoned 
he was going to your house and I wanted to see 
you before he saw Bob. A relation back East died 
and Tom has got two thousand dollars.” 

“I’m glad you have got a useful sum,” said Helen. 
“Still I don’t see-” 

“The ranch is small and the soil on the low piece 
is sour,” Mrs. Grey resumed. “All the stock and 
truck we raise won’t pay interest on the mortgage 
and buy groceries, but sometimes Tom hires up 
with a lumber gang. I was a Toronto girl, and 
when he goes off and the nights are dark it’s lone¬ 
some in the bush. Well, if we paid off the mort¬ 
gage, he could stay home and chop. Two thousand 
dollars would meet the bill.” 

“Then oughtn’t you to pay the mortgage?” 

“I’m willing, but after fighting on for eight years, 



THE PLAN WORKS 87 

Tom allows we’ve had enough. He reckons I’m 
tired and want help. His plan’s to speculate on 
lots at the new settlement.” 

“Ah!” said Helen. “Now I do see! You think 
your husband rash?” 

“I sure don’t know,” Mrs. Grey replied in a 
thoughtful voice. “If it was a land boomer’s deal, 
I’d talk Tom off; but your husband is running the 
job.” 

“For all that, you doubt,” Helen remarked. 

“It’s like this: if we pay the mortgage, things 
won’t be much different, but Tom can stay home 
and clear fresh ground and we’ll push along. 
Anyhow, the mortgage must be paid soon. Be¬ 
fore we put up two thousand dollars I want to 
know-” 

“You admit you know my husband,” said Helen 
and her look was rather proud. 

Mrs. Grey hesitated. She had long faced poverty 
and undertaken a hired man’s labor. Now she was 
thin and worn and sometimes daunted. She saw 
Helen was fresh and keen, and perhaps there was 
no use in talking. Caverhill’s indulged wife was 
not forced to cook, and wash the clothes, to pull the 
big saw, and feed the calves. 

“All does not depend on Bob,” she said. “He’s 
got a partner in the city and sometimes real estate 
men work off a frame-up. Then I can’t calculate 
if Bob’s sure he’ll make good. Maybe he goes 



88 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


ahead because he knows he’ll get there; maybe he’s 
satisfied with a fighting chance. Perhaps you know. 
Tom and I can’t take chances.” 

The trouble was, Helen did not know very much. 
Sometimes she was rather hurt because Bob did not 
talk about his plans. 

“My husband is not a fool and his partner in 
town is my brother,” she said. “But if you will 
state plainly what you want-” 

“I want to be sure. Bob is Tom’s friend, and 
if you put him wise how we are fixed and he isn’t 
plumb certain he can put the job across, maybe he’ll 
do something to freeze Tom off.” 

Helen was jarred and her color rose. She had 
not doubted that Bob and Harry could carry out 
their plans, and she saw it was important others 
should not doubt. Her part was obviously to give 
the hesitating woman confidence. Besides, she im¬ 
agined a frame-up was something like a swindle 
and the other’s remark had hurt. 

“For me to suggest Bob should discourage Mr. 
Grey is impossible,” she said with a touch of 
haughtiness. “I cannot imply that I’m not satisfied 
about my husband’s talents and my brother’s hon¬ 
esty. I am satisfied. Duff’s is an old and respect¬ 
able house and the business it transacts is sound. 
My brother is just, and if he were not just, he 
would not cheat my husband. Then I know Bob 
would not undertake a job he could not carry out. 



THE PLAN WORKS 89 

However, if you think you see a risk, the risk is 
yours. I must not persuade you.” 

“1 allow that is so,” Mrs. Grey agreed and got 
up. “Well, I surely want Tom to stay home and 
clear the ranch. If the settlement goes, he could 
get a hired man and I’d get help. Sometimes I’m 
tired and Tom’s bothered. To know we had a 
bank-roll back of us would be mighty comforting.” 

She went off and Helen’s moodiness vanished. 
To champion Bob and Harry was rather an attrac¬ 
tive part and she thought her arguments good. By 
and by she resolved to go and see how Bob got on. 
Perhaps it was strange, but she imagined he was 
not keen about her joining him when he was occu¬ 
pied. All the same, her curiosity was excited and 
she started for the dam. 

The red embankment began in a mown hayfield 
and went for some distance across the tail of a big 
pool. Below the pool an angry rapid plunged 
across rocky ledges to a waterfall. The river was 
low and where the embankment stopped a log stock¬ 
ade obstructed part of the channel. A' plank road 
went along the bank and men pushed wheelbarrows 
over the boards. 

Where the bank met the sloping field other men 
were occupied at the bottom of a horrible muddy 
hole. They pulled about big ragged blocks and 
built the stones into a lumber frame. Some wore 
leather flaps to guard their hands, but their arms 


90 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


were bare and Helen saw deep scratches on their 
brown skin. For the most part, they were not pro¬ 
fessional artizans and laborers; the men owned half- 
cleared ranches and when their money ran out car¬ 
ried loads for survey parties and cut trails for the 
Government. As a rule, the bush-rancher must 
build his house, bridge creeks, move ponderous logs, 
and drain wet muskegs. Indeed, Helen thought her 
neighbors, although far from a railroad and mar¬ 
ket, cheerfully faced obstacles that would daunt an 
English landlord. 

Opposite the waterfall, a chopper gang labori¬ 
ously cleared the trees from the keystone block. 
Fires burned in the ruin that marked their advance 
and the wide belt of tangled trunks and branches 
was streaked by rolling smoke. Near the dam, 
steam and dust blew about the concrete-mixer, and 
the engine’s steady throb pierced the turmoil of the 
fall. 

The calm that had long brooded over Shadow 
Lake was gone. All one saw indicated ruthless 
utilitarian activity. The frank ugliness of the 
broken landscape jarred, but Helen knew herself 
accountable and did not mean to indulge her ro¬ 
mantic regret. Progress implied some ugliness, and 
the keystone block that had carried a herd of cattle 
would soon carry homes for men. Moreover, the 
plan was Harry’s and to carry it out would justify 
their not leaving Bob alone. Perhaps it was 


THE PLAN WORKS 


91 


strange, but Helen felt her marrying Bob must be 
justified. In the meantime she did not see him and 
she went along the bank. 

At the end of the bank, a log coffer, lined by thick 
planks, enclosed a deep trench where the founda¬ 
tions for the dam front would go, and a number 
of men spread the cement and gravel the barrow 
gang threw down. The gritty stuff had splashed 
upon their clothes and skin; their smeared red faces 
wore a strained savage look. Helen had not before 
studied men engaged in risky labor. She felt they 
were primitive and belonged to a ruder age. In 
fact, she had vaguely thought one now used ma¬ 
chines for such work as theirs. 

The cofferdam kept the river from the trench, 
but was not altogether water-tight. Muddy trickles 
ran from the joints in the planks and at one or two 
spots a fountain spurted up. The planks throbbed 
with the beat of the current and Helen saw the thick 
logs shake. Then she noticed two men on a beam 
that spanned the trench. One steadied a post be¬ 
tween the timbers; the other, swinging a big ham¬ 
mer, struck the end. The beam that supported him 
was three or four inches wide, but although his 
body swung with the heavy tool, his balance on the 
slippery wood was like a dancer’s. He was hor¬ 
ribly dirty and his torn shirt was covered by cement. 
When he turned his head Helen saw it was Bob 
and she mechanically stepped back. It looked as 


92 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


if Bob were not the sober, and to some extent culti¬ 
vated, fellow she had thought; she got a disturbing 
hint of another and ruder man. 

The others looked up, as if they were not satis¬ 
fied about the trench, and Helen imagined some 
planks bent. Bob fixed the post and signaled for 
another, and Helen saw the planks did bend. The 
river was breaking in and a man jumped for the 
beam Bob occupied. Helen thought he meant to 
help, but his feet got no hold on the slippery wood; 
he fell back and plunged into the water and cement. 

Nobody tried to get out and three or four lifted 
a fresh post. The water poured down and gravel 
washed through an opening where a weak plank 
bulged. Helen did not see all the men did, but she 
knew there was no use in shouting to Bob, and when 
the end of a beam he wanted swung up across the 
top she seized and pushed the timber. Bob and 
another drove down the beam, the bulging plank got 
straight, and the water began to stop. Helen saw 
the risk was gone and she stole off. Somehow she 
did not want Bob to know she was about. 

By and by she noted spots on her white dress and 
saw she had torn her hand, but it was not impor¬ 
tant. She was disturbed, and although she could 
not altogether account for her disturbance, she 
wanted to get home. 


X 


BOB DISAPPROVES 

TN the evening Bob put up his calculations and 
-■* went to the veranda. The sun was low, the 
pines were getting dark, and Helen’s white dress 
cut the dusky background. For a few moments she 
did not see Bob; she stood by a post and looked 
across the valley. Her face was outlined against 
the shadow, and Bob noted her tight mouth. He 
saw she pondered and he knitted his brows, for he 
imagined she did not want his help. He felt Helen, 
so to speak, eluded him. He was her husband, but 
she was not altogether his. 

When he fetched a chair for her she turned and 
gave him a keen glance. Bob now wore a silk shirt 
and light summer clothes. His movements were 
easy and marked by the chopper’s balance. Al¬ 
though he was hard and muscular, he did not look 
like the man who had not long since labored at the 
dam. 

“You were some time in your office,” Helen re¬ 
marked. 

“That is so,” Bob agreed and felt for his pipe. 

“I’d rather have come out and joined you, but I 

93 


94 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


was forced to reckon up the pay-bill and order some 
digging truck.” 

“But you are now occupied all the time.” 

“I’ve got a big job you rather urged me to under¬ 
take,” said Bob and lighted his pipe. “I expect you 
want me to put the job across?” 

“Of course-” said Helen and stopped, for she 

saw Bob’s twinkle. 

Bob was not at all a fool and perhaps at the be¬ 
ginning she had implied that she did not want him 
to bother her much. For all that, to know he was 
resigned was another thing. 

“I imagined you were not very keen about the 
new settlement,” she resumed. 

“Oh, well, I’m a rancher. I reckon I know the 
woods, but when I get up against smart city 


“You are not up against city men. You agreed 
with Duff’s. The house is a first-class, respectable 
house and transacts the business.” 

“Looks as if I’d agreed with Duff and some 
others,” Bob rejoined with a smile. “Duff is a 
white man; I don’t know about his friends, Thorn- 
bank, for example.” 

Helen remarked that he did not state Maxwell 
was a white man. In fact, he did not talk much 
about Harry and his reserve hurt. She wanted Bob 
to approve Harry, but she must not antagonize him 
by beginning a dispute. 




BOB DISAPPROVES 95 

“Would not a contractor have cleared the ground 
and built the dam sooner ?” she inquired. 

“It’s possible,” Bob said thoughtfully. “We 
made some calculations and got an estimate. Harry 
wanted to engage the contractor, and we must get 
him to put up the power house and turbines. In 
the meantime, I reckoned to cut out some expense 
by using a rancher gang. You see, our bank-roll’s 
not big. However, if I talk business, you’ll get 
bored.” 

“Not at all. I really want to know- Did 

you not float a company?” 

“We tried to float a small private company. 
So far, we have not sold much stock. Harry 
stated Alsager and two or three sound men of 

his sort were interested, but they have not come 

• » 
in. 

“If you could give investors confidence, I sup¬ 
pose the stock would go? Then you would get all 
the money you need?” 

“Sure,” said Bob. “To persuade people is your 
brother’s part and I expect he’ll do so. When your 
brother argues, one’s forced to agree.” 

Helen looked up. She did not think Bob was 
consciously satirical, but she imagined he doubted 
Harry, and although she herself had perhaps some 
grounds to doubt, Bob had not. 

“It looks as if Harry must use his talent and 
where it’s possible we ought W help. Well, in the 



96 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


afternoon Mrs. Grey came over,” she said and nar¬ 
rated her interview with the rancher’s wife. 

"Ah,” said Bob, "I didn’t know about Grey’s two 
thousand dollars. You imply you satisfied Mrs. 
Grey her husband ought to speculate on some build¬ 
ing lots?” 

“I stated I must not persuade her and the risk 
was hers. All the same, I think she means to 
invest.” 

Bob frowned and Helen got angry. She had 
thought he would approve. 

“They’re struggling folks. I hate to think they’re 
going to bet their wad,” he said. 

“But you’re ridiculous,” Helen rejoined. “If 
you don’t mean to sell the lots, there is no use in 
your building the dam.” 

“I don’t want to take all poor folks like Tom 
Grey have got.” 

“Not if you gave them land that will soon be 
worth much?” 

“The land is not yet worth much,” Bob said 
dryly. 

The blood came to Helen’s skin. It was not that 
Grey’s speculating was important, but that Bob was 
not enthusiastic about Harry’s plan. In a sense, if 
he doubted Harry, he ought to doubt her. Besides, 
the plan must be carried out, for if her brother 
entangled Bob in embarrassments, it might look as 
if she were an unscrupulous adventuress. 


BOB DISAPPROVES 


97 


“You’re not logical,” she remarked. “When the 
dam is built and a factory starts people will be 
eager to get the lots and the price will go up. If 
you think you cannot build the dam, you ought not 
to have begun.” 

Bob smiled. He had a useful argument, but since 
he did not want to hurt Helen he let it go. 

“I reckon we can build the dam; anyhow, we are 
going to try. All the same, I see some obstacles. 
Our bank-roll-” 

“Oh!” said Helen, “it’s obvious you have not 
much talent for business! Don’t you see the im¬ 
portant thing is to persuade people they ought to 
buy the land? Suppose you got the newspapers to 
talk about the settlement and a number of people 
built houses? Storekeepers, bakers and freighters 
would be wanted to supply the workmen. They 
would build houses, one would support another, and 
the settlement would go. You would get the money 
you need to carry you on.” 

“Is the argument yours?” Bob asked quietly. 

“You imply it’s Harry’s argument? Well, per¬ 
haps it is, but the caution you use is extravagant. 
One must run some risk. Pluck’s the greatest 
quality and removes all obstacles.” 

Bob’s look got rather hard and he knitted his 
brows. 

“I am not a business man; but I doubt if one 
ought to run a risk at another’s cost. Sometimes 



98 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


it’s possible to boom a settlement, but the founda¬ 
tion for trade is useful industry and the industry 
we need is not yet started. Well, I allow the 
builders and storekeepers would support one an¬ 
other, so long as the money they brought held out. 
Then, if the factory was not started, they’d be 
forced to quit, and the men I helped break would 
curse me for a cheat.” 

Helen was half persuaded. Bob’s proud honesty 
commanded respect. Yet if she admitted he took 
the proper line she must admit that Harry did not. 
There was the trouble, because she must justify her 
brother. 

“Then, if Grey resolves to invest, what are you 
going to do about it ?” she asked. 

“I don’t know. The thing’s awkward. I can’t 
go back on my wife.” 

“Although you don’t approve her rules?” said 
Helen in a rather scornful voice. “Well, I suppose 
I ought to be flattered because you don’t want to 
let me down; but it’s strange you don’t see your 
stanchness, in a sense, is immoral.” 

She went off and Bob smoked and mused. As a 
rule, Helen was not nasty, and since he knew her 
high spirit, her annoyance did not much bother 
him. In fact, he rather liked to think her angry, 
because it indicated that he could move her. For 
the most part, she agreed with him, but he did not 


BOB DISAPPROVES 99 

want her to agree. He thought he really wanted 
Helen to let herself go. Then he began to speculate 
about her urging him to push on the settlement. 

Helen was ambitious, but Bob imagined her am¬ 
bition was not selfish. She wanted him to get rich 
and she wanted Maxwell to make good. Bob 
lighted his pipe and frowned. For Helen to sup¬ 
port Maxwell was proper. She declared she owed 
him much; but her husband had the first claim. It 
was not that Bob was jealous and antagonistic. 
When Maxwell was about he felt his charm and saw 
his useful qualities; the trouble was, when he was 
not about one wondered whether he had not carried 
one away. Somehow Bob did not trust Maxwell as 
he trusted Helen, but he admitted that he had noth¬ 
ing to go on. By and by he got up and went to 
his office. 

Helen had gone to the lake and languidly watched 
the splashes the trout made break the trembling 
shadows. All was not in shadow, for a belt of 
water reflected the green and rose-pink sky. In the 
distance a loon called and the noise was like hoarse 
laughter. Then an owl wheeled across the light, 
shrieked and vanished, and all was quiet but for the 
splash of the trout. 

At the beginning Bob had gone with her in the 
evening to fish, but since he began the dam he was 
occupied at his office and the river. Although 



-) ■> > 


100 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Helen approved his concentration, sometimes it 
jarred, and now she was hurt and angry. She had 
meant to help, and Bob was annoyed. 

Helen let it go and began to weigh another thing. 
She had begun to see Bob was a finer type than her 
brother, but she must not let Harry down. He 
stood for much for which she stood. She, so to 
speak, must carry her brother along; Bob must 
know they went together. 

After a time she got up and went back to the 
house. All was quiet and a lamp burning in the 
office indicated that Bob had resumed his calcula¬ 
tions. The big room behind the veranda was 
dreary and the book Helen picked up was dull. 
She frowned, glanced at the office door and hesi¬ 
tated, and then went off to bed. 


XI 


maxwell's valise 

A CLOUD of flies hovered about the oxen, 

^ chained in double span to a big fir stump, and 
sweating men pushed long handspikes into the hole 
under the cut roots. The stump was four or five 
feet across and six feet high, and blocked the way 
for the foundation trench at the dam. A dark stain 
and a rent indicated that a blasting shot had blown 
out in the half-rotten wood, and Bob had yoked his 
oxen to the obstacle. 

Standing on a log, he saw the chain was fixed at 
the proper spot and the men were at their posts; 
and then for a moment turned his head. The river 
rolled angrily by the end of the dam and he knew 
the water rose; a big stone he had not long since 
noted was covered. It looked as if he must 
strengthen his coffer and he wanted to get to work; 
but he must first move the stump and he signaled 
the teamster. 

“Start them up! Lift her, boys!” 

The oxen went forward and the chain got tight. 
The men pulled at the handspikes and the big stump 
tilted and began to rise from the hole. Then it 

stopped, the teamster shouted and the powerful 

101 


102 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


animals strained and trampled. The yokes cracked 
and the chain jarred, but the stump did not move. 
A man, throwing down his handspike, got on his 
knees and looked into the hole. Bob jumped from 
the log. 

“She mustn’t come back! What has jambed?” 

“Looks like a root wasn’t cut,” said the other, 
and Bob seized an ax. 

“You have got to hold her, boys,” he said and 
crawled into the dark hole. 

The root was thick, and since he must lie down 
he could not properly use his ax. Moreover, he 
doubted if the men and oxen could long hold up 
the stump and when it rolled back he must not be 
underneath. All the same, he wanted the gang at 
the coffer and they must drag out the stump before 
they went. 

The ax sank into the sappy wood; he felt the 
mass above him tremble and soil fell on his head. 
Pulling out the blade, he moved his body and made 
another stroke. A chip leaped up, but the notch was 
not deep and the stump began to shake. There was 
no use in shouting to the teamster; his voice would 
not carry and the man knew he must keep the chain 
tight. Another two or three strokes would break 
the root and Bob got his breath and struck savagely. 

He heard a crack and tangled roots brushed 
across him. The stump was rising, but it stopped 
and began to sink back. Bob knew he must get out, 


MAXWELL’S VALISE 


103 


and turning awkwardly, he pushed between the 
roots. Soil fell and pinned down his legs and he 
heard shouts. Then somebody seized his arm and 
pulled him from the hole. He had not his hat and 
the soil was in his hair; his overalls were split and 
his skin was torn, but he jumped for the handspike 
his helper had dropped. 

Men gasped and shouted, the oxen’s shoulders 
heaved, and the stump tilted and rolled a yard or 
two across level ground. Bob looked up and saw 
his foreman’s face was wet by sweat and his brown 
hands shook. 

“You held her, Jake!” said Bob. 

“I thought we were beat,” the other replied 
rather hoarsely. “The team gave back—looked as 
if she was coming down on you.” 

“Perhaps I took some chances, but we had to 
pull her out,” said Bob. “Bring the boys. We 
must run down the logs for the coffer.” 

They started along the river bank and stopped at 
a pile of chopped trunks. The logs plunged down 
the slanted skids, and when all were launched the 
men jumped on the bark and used their poles to 
separate and steer the drifting mass. Sometimes a 
log began to roll and a man jumped to another; 
sometimes one moved his feet as if he danced and 
kept his awkward post. 

By and by Bob, balancing on a trunk, floated 
across the pool by the dam. His head was tilted 


104 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

back and his body above his waist was slack. 
When he used his pole he must steady the log by a 
gentle swing and a push from his foot. Other logs 
floated near him, and unless he could steer the 
timber into the slack, all the current swept past the 
dam would be lost. He needed the logs. The snow 
on the peak was melting fast and lake and river 
rose. 

He pushed the logs behind a chain, and after they 
were in the pond landed on the dam and sat down 
in the sun. He saw his crawling under the stump 
was foolhardy and he ought, perhaps, to have let 
Watson run down the logs. All the same, he liked 
to handle the big trunks. The job was a man’s job, 
and to labor was rather a relief than a strain. For 
long he was happy in his occupation at the ranch, 
but he had got entangled by Maxwell’s development 
scheme. Well, he meant to make the scheme go, 
and had Duff kept control, he would not have both¬ 
ered. Duff, however, was in the North and some¬ 
how Maxwell- 

The foreman jumped on to the dam. Watson 
owned a small, half-cleared ranch and Bob trusted 
the big fellow. For a moment or two Watson hesi¬ 
tated and then said, “The lake’s overflowing into 
the muskeg and I reckon the water will rise for two 
or three weeks. You want to carry up the coffer, 
but our lumber’s running out.” 

“That is so; I could use a pile of sawn stuff,” Bob 



MAXWELL’S VALISE 105 

agreed. “The drawback is, cost and transport are 

high.” 

“You don’t want to pay for transport. Bums 
at Saleter’s Forks has no use for his old mill. She’s 
rusty and the boiler leaks, but the engine and saw 
are good, and Burns is keen to sell. If you didn’t 
want all the boards she’d cut, you could stack the 
lumber to season until the house-building starts.” 

“It looks a useful plan,” said Bob. “Still the 
company’s capital is not large and I mustn’t bother 
them at the office for much money.” 

“There’s another thing,” Watson remarked with 
some embarrassment. “The boys know you haven’t 
got all the tools you ought to have, but they get 
their pay. Well, they have been talking, and their 
notion is, if it would help, they’d wait-” 

In the woods workmen are sometimes not paid 
until the job is finished, but Bob was moved. 

“You’re a good sort, Jake, and the boys are a fine 
bunch. All the same, the company must meet the 
wage payroll bill and perhaps I can buy Burns’s out¬ 
fit.” 

The foreman went off and Bob knocked out his 
pipe. In the morning a steamer ought to touch at 
the settlement on the coast and Helen had talked 
about Maxwell’s coming over for a day or two. If 
Maxwell arrived, Bob meant to urge their buying 
the sawmill, but in the meantime he must get to 
work. 



THE BUSH-RANCHER 


[106 

Maxwell did arrive and after supper Bob joined 
him and Helen on the veranda. For a time Max¬ 
well and Helen joked, but Bob imagined Harry’s 
carelessness was rather forced and when he was 
quiet his look was thoughtful. 

“I expect you want to know how we get on?” he 
said at length. “Well, we make progress, but I 
begin to feel I pull some weight and I don’t know 
when Duff will return. In the meantime I can give 
you a few particulars-” 

He took a small valise from the table and pulled 
out a bundle of documents. At the bottom was 
some printed paper, like a pamphlet, but he removed 
this and putting it back, shut the valise. Then he 
gave Bob the other papers and lighted a cigarette. 
Helen remarked that he frowned. 

For five or ten minutes all was quiet. Bob was 
absorbed by the accounts and Maxwell knitted his 
brows. Their preoccupation disturbed Helen, be¬ 
cause she felt that something went on to which she 
had not a clew. By and by Maxwell stretched his 
legs and rested his head against the chair as if he 
were tired. 

Maxwell was tired. He was a gambler and had 
bet higher than his partners knew. His habit was 
to risk a plunge, and as a rule the plunge was justi¬ 
fied; but as his intricate plans developed he was 
forced to enlarge his bets. If he lost, he could not 
pay, and sometimes the risk daunted him. His 



MAXWELL’S VALISE 


107 


imagination was romantic and he pictured himself 
sowing. The seed he used was others’ money and 
so far the golden crop had not begun to spring. 
For all that, he knew it would spring and he must 
hold on until the harvest. To hold on was hard, 
but if he could keep Caverhill satisfied and Duff in 
the North, he and they would get the reward. At 
length Bob gave him back the papers and Maxwell 
put the bundle in his valise. Helen thought for him 
to do so was some relief. 

“Has Alsager joined you?” Bob inquired. 

“He hasn’t yet sent in his application, but I ex¬ 
pect to get it. Alsager’s a cautious fellow; he likes 
to wait.” 

“What about a factory?” 

“Underhill and one or two more are negotiating. 
Parton’s agent came over. They want a site for a 
shingling mill.” 

“The negotiations don’t go fast,” Bob remarked. 

Maxwell smiled. “One fellow waits for another, 
but when the first begins to move all will hustle. 
For example, when the factory goes up, building 
on the lots will start and somebody will speculate 
on a lumber mill. Then we want a road for heavy 
transport and the Government will make a grant, 
but they will not do so until the need is obvious.” 

“In order to get a factory we must have a road, 
but in order to get the road we must have a fac¬ 
tory,” said Bob with some dryness. “Then a saw- 


108 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


mill would help the settlement go, and a growing 
settlement would persuade somebody to speculate on 
a mill.” 

“It is rather like that,” Maxwell agreed. “One 
venture starts the next. Our part’s to give some¬ 
body a useful push-off.” 

“Very well; I’m going to start a mill. I know 
an old outfit I can patch up and run. The experi¬ 
ment will cost two thousand dollars.” 

“I doubt if I can get two thousand dollars,” said 
Maxwell moodily. 

“Our bank-roll ought to stand for it. If I can’t 
buy the mill, I must buy sawn lumber, and since we 
haven’t got the road, transport’s expensive.” 

“Money Hows out, Bob; I can’t stop the channels. 
A's soon as I get a useful sum I’m forced to write 
checks. We have an urgent use for every dollar.” 

“I want the mill; I must have proper tools,” Bob 
said firmly. “For the most part, our money has 
been used at Vancouver and I don’t altogether see 
where it goes. We’ll get back all I use at the lake. 
Besides, your balance sheet indicates-” 

Maxwell for a few moments said nothing. Two 
thousand dollars was not a large sum, but he was 
horribly embarrassed and did not want to talk about 
the balance sheet. In order to get his reward, he 
must hold on for some time yet and when he de¬ 
clared money flowed away he did not exaggerate. 
All the same, he saw Bob was resolved and to dis- 



MAXWELL’S VALISE 109 

pute was dangerous. It looked as if he must run 
another risk. 

“Then I expect I must indulge you,” he said 
quietly. “But I’m tired. Let’s talk about something 
else.” 

He began to banter Helen and she played up, for 
she saw Harry was highly strung. She did not 
think Bob saw, but sometimes Bob was not keen. 
By and by the trees got blurred and thin mist floated 
about the house. Helen shivered and went off to 
bed. Bob went to his office, but Maxwell stopped 
and pondered: 

After breakfast in* the morning Helen went to 
Maxwell’s room, to see if her Chinese house-boy 
had put all straight. When she moved a cloth on 
a bureau she knocked down Maxwell’s valise. The 
jar shook the valise open and a number of docu¬ 
ments fell on the floor. Helen thought one was the 
pamphlet Harry had put back, and when she turned 
it over she saw printed on the front, Helensville’s 
advantages. Underneath was a good picture of the 
snow-peak and the lake. 

At first Helen was annoyed and then her curiosity 
was excited. Since Harry had used her name, she 
was entitled to study the pamphlet. The print, 
however, was small and‘Maxwell had altered and 
scored out words. Bright sunbeams shone into the 
room, dazzling her eyes, and she went to the pas¬ 
sage where the light was steady. 


110 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


When her curiosity was satisfied she frowned. 
The claims the little book advanced were bold and 
Helen remarked their cleverness; for example, the 
statement that sites for a pulp-factory and a saw¬ 
mill were being cleared and the dam to supply the 
power had made some progress. The statement was 
accurate, but the implication that mill and factory 
would soon be built was not. Other statements did 
not harmonize with Harry’s remarks to Bob. In 
fact, the thing was rather a plausible than honest 
advertisement. 

Helen wondered what she ought to do about it. 
She was persuaded Bob would not approve and per¬ 
haps he ought to know, but she shrank from enlight¬ 
ening him. Moreover, she shrank from talking to 
Maxwell. She did not want to dispute with Harry 
and she imagined they would dispute. Helen saw 
Maxwell’s boldness was typical. Not long since, she 
might have thought it humorous, but she had, half 
consciously, begun to use Bob’s sterner rules. After 
all, however, perhaps some exaggeration in an ad¬ 
vertisement was allowable. The factory would be 
built and Harry would make good his claims. In 
the meantime, her brother and her husband must 
not jar. Then she heard a step and Bob, going 
along the passage, gave her a careless glance. 

“Hello!” he said. “Got something interesting in 
your mail ? I thought I noted a department store’s 
envelope.” 


MAXWELL’S VALISE 


111 


“The advertisement is rather interesting,” Helen 
replied, but when Bob went off she blushed, and 
pushed the pamphlet angrily into the valise. 

Bob, crossing the veranda, saw Helen’s letters on 
the table and rather thought the department store 
envelope was not opened. He, however, was not 
interested and Watson wanted him at the dam. 


XII 


THE COFFER GOES 

-p\USK was falling, and Bob, turning in his 
^ chair, stretched his tired body and began to 
cut some tobacco. The chair cracked noisily and 
Bob dropped his tobacco plug. He could not reach 
the plug, to get up was a bother, and he knew Helen 
did not approve his cutting tobacco into his hand. 
Sometimes he thought Helen’s fastidiousness exag¬ 
gerated, and he did not want to go for his pouch. 

The soft dusk invaded the veranda, but Helen 
wore a white dress and her figure was distinct. She 
faced Bob and he knew she had noticed his cutting 
the tobacco, but he rather hoped she would not talk. 
Since the early morning he had been occupied and 
when he had smoked his pipe he must go back to 
the dam. 

The evening was calm and the throb of the river 
was ominously loud. After two or three weeks of 
scorching sun, the snow on the white peak melted 
fast, the lake was full, and the rising water floated 
the driftwood other floods had stranded along the 
bank. The current carried down the battered 
trunks and branches, and if the stuff jammed 

112 


THE COFFER GOES 113 

against and broke his boom, the coffer dam 
would go. 

“Since you are tired, I didn’t bother you to 
change your clothes for supper,” Helen remarked. 
“But will you not pull off your big rubber boots?” 

Bob frowned. For the most part, he tried to use 
Helen’s rules, but he thought he had gone as far as 
a man whose occupation was strenuous ought to 
go. Moreover, although Helen was a charming 
companion, he felt she was content to be his com¬ 
panion, and when he was moody her remoteness 
annoyed him. Bob thought remoteness the proper 
word; in a sense, he did not get near Helen, and 
because he loved her it hurt. Yet he tried to play 
up and to some extent his resolve to do so accounted 
for his concentrating on the dam. 

“There is not much use in pulling off my boots 
for five minutes,” he replied. 

“Then, you are going back to the dam?” said 
Helen rather sharply. “You are not much at the 
homestead and when you are about you muse and 
smoke.” 

“One ought to be logical,” said Bob and forced 
a smile. “You want me to build the dam, and to 
build a dam is a big undertaking-” 

“Don’t you want to build the dam?” 

“Perhaps at the beginning I wasn’t very keen. 
However, since I have got going I ought to go on.” 

“That is all ?” 



114 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“I don’t know,” said Bob dully. “I’m not a 
philosopher. When I undertake a job I don’t 
speculate about my object; I shove ahead. Well, 
I have started and you ought to be satisfied.” 

Helen was not satisfied, and since she had urged 
Bob to start, she admitted that she was not alto¬ 
gether logical. At the beginning she was willing 
for him to concentrate on his occupation; now she 
was not. Yet Helen would not dwell on this and 
there was another thing. She sensed in Bob an 
antagonism to her brother of which she thought he 
was not directly conscious. The antagonism, so to 
speak, was subconscious and perhaps instinctive. 
He did not trust Harry. There was the trouble. 
Harry was her brother and stood for much for 
which she stood. Helen was proud and sometimes 
obstinate. 

“I know you will go on,” she said. “Still, con¬ 
fidence carries one far, and your confidence is not 
marked.” 

“Oh, well; I don’t altogether see where I go and 
I’m bothered. In fact, I frankly wish Duff was 
back.” 

“Harry is at the office,” Helen rejoined in a 
meaning voice. “The new settlement plan is his.” 

Bob moodily knocked out his pipe and got up. 
He had not wanted to dispute. 

“That is so,” he agreed. “Your brother is a 
clever business man, but Duff is boss, and I reckon 


THE COFFER GOES 


115 


his support counts for more than you and Harry 
think. He knows his job and the house’s customers 
know old Tom. When he states a speculation’s 
sound, they’re willing to invest.” 

“Ah,” said Helen, “you imply that if Harry 
stated the thing was sound, his word would not 
go?” 

“I did not imply anything like that. I admitted 
I would sooner Duff was back; that’s all. Still I 
don’t think you ought to grumble because I stay 
with my job. The plan was your brother’s and 
you urged me to agree. If I loaf about the home¬ 
stead, the dam will not get built.” 

“Very well,” said Helen. “When you go off 
another time I will not grumble. In fact, since you 
are content at the dam, you can go when you like.” 

Bob turned, but the light was gone and all he 
saw was Helen’s white dress. He shrugged with 
moody resignation and went down the steps. Helen 
had some time since indicated that she was satisfied 
with a husband and did not want a lover. More¬ 
over, she had urged him to build the dam, but when 
he got busy she grumbled. He frankly did not 
know what she did want. 

Helen knew. She wanted Bob to want to stay 
with her. When she married him she knew she was 
moved by shabby ambition, but she was sorry for 
her shabbiness. Bob was a finer type than she had 
thought and sometimes his justness gave her a 


116 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


strange thrill. For all that, Bob must acknowledge 
Harry sincere. In fact, Harry’s making good must 
justify her marrying. Bob had given generously, 
Harry had got much, and in a sense, for Harry to 
cheat her husband was for her to cheat him. Since 
she dared not doubt her brother, Bob must not 
doubt. 

At the dam a blast-lamp threw up a pillar of 
flame. The long bank and the coffer timbers were 
harshly distinct; moving figures crossed the dazzling 
beam and melted in the gloomy background. Some 
pushed wheel-barrows along the planks, and some 
threw down heavy stones into the coffer. In the 
coffer, two or three smoky pit-lamps hung from the 
beams and the dim illumination touched the men 
who bedded the stones in plastic cement. They 
labored savagely and Bob noted that jets of water 
spouted from the cracks. He doubted if the coffer 
frame would stand, but if his luck were good, he 
might build up a row of heavy blocks to support the 
timbers. 

The pillar of flame tossed. Sometimes the strong 
white beam swept the river and he saw the angry 
flood and vague black pines on the other side. In 
the corner between the dam and the bank, eddies 
revolved and a chained boom went obliquely across 
the angle. The logs rolled about, rose a few inches 
from the turmoil and sank. Three or four men 
carrying poles balanced on the wet bark and tried 


THE COFFER GOES 


117 


to push off the driftwood the current carried down. 

Battered trunks and branches plunged through 
the pass where the coffer frame stopped, but Bob 
saw the tangle the boom held up got larger, and if 
the boom went, the coffer would go. His post was 
on the boom and he leaped down the bank. The 
logs rolled and tilted, but Bob was a bushman and 
could use his feet. At the middle of the boom he 
seized a tired man’s pole. 

“Take a spell and help them load up rock,” he 
said, and when the other went off jumped for a 
broken trunk. 

The trunk went under water, surged up again, 
and crashed against a tangle of locked branches. 
Bob got his pole against the boom, set his mouth, 
and pushed. He must shove out the trunk and in 
the meantime it was not important that when it 
went he might go with it. His muscles strained 
and he felt the veins on his forehead get tight, but 
his hands went slowly back along the pole until he 
got the end against his chest. For a moment or 
two he thought himself beaten, and then the trunk 
swung out from the tangle and the tangle broke up. 

Bob jumped. Dazzling reflections and dark 
shadows touched the flood and he did not altogether 
see where he ought to go. White branches and in¬ 
distinct slabs of bark tossed in the eddy, but Bob 
was something of a log-driver and a log-driver’s 
balance is like an acrobat’s. He reached the boom 


118 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

and steadied himself by his pole until he got his 
breath. 

‘That lot’s clear,” he said. “Maybe we can break 
the block at the other end.” 

The man he signaled helped nobly, but Bob did 
not see who it was. The driftwood shocked and 
crashed, and a tree they dislodged, rolling its broken 
branches from the flood, struck the coffer. Bob 
thought to see the timbers go, but the tree swung 
round, plunged through the pass, and vanished in 
the gloom. Then for a time they labored me¬ 
chanically and Bob heard the river and the shock 
of smashing wood. Trunks and branches piled 
against the boom; bright reflections leaped across 
the turmoil and faded. Bob could not see where to 
use his pole; he must work by instinct, and although 
he labored with savage stubbornness he doubted if 
he could keep it up. Day would not break for long, 
the water rose steadily, and he was flesh and blood. 

At length he gave his pole to a fresh man and 
he and another crossed the boom to the dam and 
lay on the slanted stones. The water ran from his 
overalls, but the night was hot and to let himself 
go slack for a few minutes was a keen relief. By 
and by he saw the man who had joined him was 
Grey. 

“Hello, Tom!” he said. “You didn’t hire up 
with the gang.” 

Grey smiled. “I won’t bother you to book my 


THE COFFER GOES 


119 


time. When Gillow told us the flood was making 
trouble for you, Pete and I reckoned we would 
come along.” 

“Thanks! My neighbors are pretty stanch.” 

“Oh, well, Pete has a stake in the new settlement 
and so have I. I bet two thousand dollars on your 
making good.” 

“You mean, you banked your legacy in building 
lots?” 

“Sure,” said Grey. “Sadie kind of hesitated. 
She wanted to pay off the mortgage, but when she’d 
talked to Mrs. Caverhill she thought we might risk 
the speculation.” 

“Then, you put all your money on the building 
lots?” said Bob in a quiet voice. 

“All the wad! Your wife reckoned you were 
keen about the plan and meant to make it go.” 

Bob frowned and wondered whether Grey exag¬ 
gerated Helen’s statement. He would sooner she 
had not persuaded Mrs. Grey, but there was now 
no use in daunting the fellow. 

“The plan has some advantages. All the same, 
we haven’t put it over yet.” 

“So long as you are satisfied it ought to go, I’ll 
take my chance,” said Grey. “I might have paid 
off the mortgage and I’d certainly like to feel I wa9 
not in debt, but to have done with my creditor 
wouldn’t help very much. The timber’s big, and I 
couldn’t hire up a chopper gang and run a proper 


120 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


bunch of stock. Since I bought the piece we’ve tried 
to cut the grocery bill and live on flour and pork. 
Sadie works like a hired man and I hate to see her 
tired. Well, if I can sell my lots for a good price 
when the settlement goes ahead, the trouble’s gone. 
I can hire up help and see Sadie’s fixed right. Say, 
to know my bank-roll will stand for proper tools 
and stock is going to be great!” 

Bob was quiet. He knew something about the 
stern struggle a small rancher must make, and 
Grey’s optimistic trust bothered him. Helen had 
persuaded Mrs. Grey to invest all they had and Bob 
felt himself accountable. After a few minutes he 
got up. 

“They want us at the boom,” he said. “Let’s go 
back.” 

At the top of the coffer he stopped and called to 
Watson in the pit. 

“Watch out, Jake. If the logs pile up against 
the frame, don’t bother about beams and wedges. 
Get from under!” 

The foreman nodded and Bob went down the 
bank and along the rocking boom. He was needed, 
for the water rose and the eddy swung fresh trunks 
against the mass the boom held up. For some 
hours he and his helpers sweated, strained, and 
hoped for daybreak; and then, when the trees on 
the bank were blacker,and their saw-edged tops 
began to cut the sky, a giant log circled in the eddy 


THE COFFER GOES 


121 


and plunged into the tangle. The boom bent under 
the fresh load and the tight chains rang. The 
dawn was cold and the men shivered. Their ex¬ 
hausted bodies ached and their brains were dull. 

Bob leaped upon the locked tangle. He reached 
the big log, somebody joined him, and bracing him¬ 
self savagely, he used his pole. The log stopped 
and began to move the other way through the jam. 
Bob’s pole slipped and he was in the water. He 
felt the eddy pull him down, under the driftwood, 
and then somebody seized his arm. The other 
steered him across the eddy and he knew they were 
in the outflowing stream. The log was in front and 
he seized a trailing root. 

The trunk struck the coffer and timbers crashed. 
Then it rolled, bumped and forged ahead. Bob 
heard a savage uproar, but the log dragged him on 
and plunged through the pass. On the other side 
he let go and swam for the bank. Grey crawled 
out from the water beside him and they saw logs 
and beams and branches drive down-stream. 

“We made it!” Grey gasped. “Well, I guess we 
were lucky. If she had broken before we 
went-” 

“You pulled me out,” said Bob. 

“I sure don’t know. All I do know is, you came 
off the log. Anyhow, to see you on the bank is 
some relief. We want you to build the settlement.” 

“I’m going to try, but the job’s awkward,” Bob 



122 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


replied. “For one thing, I expect the coffer’s gone.” 

The coffer was gone, but when he reached the 
dam the men were on the top. All were exhausted 
and knew that for a time they were beaten. 

“When the water runs down I’ll send for you,” 
said Bob, and somebody put out the blast lamp. 

The men went off and Bob started for the ranch. 
The dawn was cold and in the dim light all was 
bleak and dreary. Yet he knew he must brace up. 
His job was to build the settlement. Duff’s had 
engaged to do so, but the men trusted him. 


XIII 


ellmer’s speculation 

T%yTAXWELL threw down his pencil, pushed 
■ some calculations across the table, and looked 
about. When he joined Duff the office was old- 
fashioned and shabby; now they used two rooms 
in an ambitious building, and the furniture was new; 
and the decoration rather extravagant. Stained 
glass and polished cedar and maple struck a note 
of prosperity. Maxwell had a talent for suggestion 
and meant the handsome furniture to indicate that 
the house went ahead. Some of the expensive 
decoration was recent, and when Maxwell specu¬ 
lated about Duff’s remarks he smiled. 

For all that his look was disturbed. He had re¬ 
turned from the bank and although he had used 
clever persuasion the B. N. A. manager was firm. 
Moreover, Maxwell’s calculations indicated that the 
fellow’s caution was justified. Maxwell wanted 
money, but was forced to admit that the security 
offered was not very good. 

For a few moments he hesitated, and then pushed 
round his chair and went to a cupboard. He felt 
he needed bracing before he got to work. For 

some time he had been satisfied to take a few drinks 

123 


124 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


in the evening when he met his customers at the 
hotels, but after Duff went and the strain got heavy 
he kept liquor at the office. Although Maxwell had 
some grounds to know indulgence was rash, he 
faced something like a crisis and he drained his 
glass. Then he went back and resting his arms on 
the table, knitted his brows. 

He had used much money and needed a large 
sum. The tide, so to speak, had for long run out, 
but it would turn and, if he could hold on, carry 
him smoothly where he wanted to go. All the 
same, to hold on was hard. Duff’s and Caverhill’s 
plan was to start industries that would support the 
new settlement, but it was not Maxwell’s plan. In 
fact, he knew it would not work. The settlement 
must rather start and support the industries. Per¬ 
haps his argument was not economically sound, but 
in the West, plans like that did work, and in order 
to give speculators confidence and excite their greed 
he had used expensive advertisements. In fact, if 
Duff knew his extravagance, Maxwell imagined he 
would get a nasty jar. 

Duff, however, was in the North and before he 
returned Maxwell hoped to get all back. People 
were interested and began to inquire about Helens- 
ville. A number had bought lots and, if Maxwell 
could carry on, others would buy and the boom for 
which he worked would begin. Then, when prices 
went up, the company could build the factories. 


ELLMER’S SPECULATION 125 


Maxwell saw he must carry on. To stop would 
break Duff’s and might break Caverhill. When he 
started he had not seen all the risks, but he was not 
consciously a cheat. He believed he could boom the 
new settlement. By and by a telephone rang and 
a clerk pushed back a sliding window. 

“Mr. Ellmer wants to know if you’re about.” 

Maxwell hesitated, and then said, “Tell him to 
come over.” 

The clerk shut the window and Maxwell got 
another drink. Although he did not want to see 
Ellmer, he dared not refuse. As a rule, the fellow 
was friendly, but sometimes he was truculent and 
Maxwell knew him very shrewd. Then Ellmer had 
talked about building a hotel at the settlement and 
Maxwell was bothered about Coral. 

When Coral put him off the car he was rather 
amused than annoyed. He liked her pluck and 
when he went back to the road-house she said noth¬ 
ing about their dispute. Perhaps it was strange, 
but although he had known a number of cultivated 
girls, none had moved him as Coral moved him. 
Her beauty was not refined, but she was beautiful. 
Then, although she liked flattery and her banter 
sometimes was bold, she knew where to stop. Coral 
frankly used her charm, but she was not the rather 
adventurous coquette Maxwell at the beginning had 
thought. 

Coral’s reserve intrigued him and sometimes he 


126 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


wondered whether it was temperamental or calcu¬ 
lated. Anyhow, her charm was strong; he liked 
to go about with Coral, but to marry a girl from a 
road-house was another thing. Maxwell knitted 
his brows and tried to recapture the part he had 
played one evening two or three days since. 

To begin with, he was annoyed because Coral 
had gone off with a young fellow who arrived in 
a big expensive car, and he took a number of 
drinks with Ellmer. Maxwell thought he himself 
was sober, but when the big car started for the city 
and he found Coral in the shadowy road, he was 
not calm. Her hat and clothes were white, and her 
firmly lined figure cut the background of dark pine 
branches. Although the light was going, he noted 
that her eyes were very black and her skin was 
white and red. Maxwell recaptured the attractive 
picture and admitted that it fired his blood. 

He rather imagined he warned Coral that she 
ought not to go about with a loafing philanderer 
like Thurston. Coral laughed and inquired if Max¬ 
well himself were not something of the other’s sort. 
Maxwell declared He was not and Coral rejoined 
that she had grounds to doubt. Anyhow, the dis¬ 
pute began something like that; and then Coral gave 
Maxwell a look that carried him away. He seized 
her and tried to put his arm round her waist, but 
she pushed him back and declared she kept her 
kisses for the man she married. 


ELLMER’S SPECULATION 


127 


Maxwell did not remember his reply. There was 
the trouble, because he did kiss Coral. Since she 
relented, it looked as if he had employed a useful 
argument, but all he knew was, when they returned 
to the road-house his arm was round Coral’s waist. 
Now he was rather disturbed about it. Moreover, 
although he did not want to marry Coral, he im¬ 
agined to see her marry another would hurt. He 
ought to let it go and occupy himself with the 
letters on his desk, but Ellmer would soon ar¬ 
rive. 

After a few minutes Ellmer came in, and gave 
Maxwell a meaning smile. 

“I’ve known a drink or two help business, but 
unless you’re going to set them up, you want to 
open the window.” 

“Will you take a drink?” Maxwell inquired. 

The other’s ironical glance bothered him. The 
fellow kept a small road-house but he had abilities. 
Maxwell had persuaded others, but he imagined he 
had not moved the saloon-keeper. 

“I guess not. In the morning tanking’s an awk¬ 
ward habit and sometimes it’s risky at night. If 
I was up against a job like yours, I’d cut out 
liquor.” 

Maxwell’s face got red. It looked as if the fellow 
knew something about his embarrassments, and his 
manner indicated that he thought himself entitled 
to be frank. 


128 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“Oh, well, perhaps your remarks ought to carry 
some weight,” Maxwell rejoined. 

Ellmer smiled. “When you get mad, you don’t 
want to talk. I certainly sell liquor like you sell 
real estate; but the stuff I put up is sound. Any¬ 
how, my ambition’s not to serve drinks across a 
road-house bar. I want to run a smart hotel and 
I reckon to locate at your settlement. What about 
a frontage on your Main Street?” 

“Our surveys are not yet finished and all the 
blocks are not pegged off,” said Maxwell, who did 
not want Ellmer at Helensville. “Besides, you’re 
my friend and I wouldn’t like you to be disap¬ 
pointed,” he resumed. “We expect to make the 
town go, but we have not got started and you might 
be forced to wait for customers.” 

“I reckon Helensville’s chances are pretty good; 
I’ve been there,” said Ellmer coolly. “I met up 
with Caverhill and I’m willing to bet he’ll put his 
part of the scheme across. You have got to put 
yours across and to sell some blocks where frontage 
costs most might help. Well, I want to buy, and 
if I can get a site I like, you’ll get my check.” 

He turned and began to study a map on the wall. 
Maxwell frowned. He saw Ellmer knew his em¬ 
barrassments and thought he had meant to indicate 
something like this. All the same, the fellow 
trusted Caverhill and was willing to invest, and 


ELLMER’S SPECULATION 129 

Maxwell dared not refuse money. Then Ellmer 
indicated a spot on the map. 

“I’ll locate at the corner and can use three sites. 
My aim’s to run a livery stable, and when you grade 
up the coast trail, I’ll buy an automobile and a 
gasolene tractor. The other lot’s a speculation. 
What’s your price?” 

Maxwell told him and added: “Until the blocks 
are properly marked off, we cannot record the 
transfer at the land office.” 

They disputed about the price and then Ellmer 
said, “I’ll give you my check for a receipt and an 
agreement to deliver; I guess you have used the 
plan. Now it’s fixed, I can talk up Helensville. At 
a road-house the boys do talk and some know what 
I say goes.” 

He sat down and Maxwell gave him a cigar. For 
a few moments they smoked quietly, and then 
Ellmer looked up. 

“When are you going to marry Coral?” 

Maxwell got a nasty knock. Moreover he began 
to see why Ellmer had waited. 

“Then Coral expects me to marry her?” he said, 
as carelessly as possible. 

“That is so. I expect it. Don’t you know you 
fixed it Saturday evening?” 

Maxwell did not know. There was the trouble. 
He glanced at Ellmer and saw the fellow’s black 


130 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


eyes sparkled. His mouth was tight and his look 
was truculent. Well, Maxwell must get money and 
Ellmer was willing to pay a useful sum. Then the 
road-house was something of a country club; the 
young automobilists talked to the landlord and as 
a rule their talk was business talk. A rumor started 
at the road-house would go far and Maxwell’s 
carrying out his plans depended on others’ imagin¬ 
ing the plans were sound. Ellmer could help; but, 
if he wanted, he could embarrass Maxwell and it 
looked as if he knew his power. 

“I rather thought Coral hesitated,” Maxwell re¬ 
plied. “My drawbacks are pretty obvious and per¬ 
haps account for something. Not long since I was 
Duff’s clerk, and although I’m now his partner, my 
share is not large. All the same, we expect the 
Helensville scheme to push Duff’s ahead, and if 
Coral is not daunted-” 

“She is willing,” said Ellmer dryly. 

“Very well. Before I marry, I feel I ought to 
make good, and I must concentrate on the venture 
the house has undertaken. Until I see if all goes as 
we expect, perhaps I ought not to urge Coral-” 

“Coral won’t urge you,” said Ellmer, and his 
glance was hard. “I reckon she might have got a 

man like Caverhill, but since she’s satisfied- 

Well, when the town site boom begins we’ll talk 
about the wedding. Send over your agreement for 
the lots I want and you’ll get a check.” 





ELLMER’S SPECULATION 131 


He went off and Maxwell clenched his fist. He 
doubted if he had cheated Ellmer and he had sensed 
a hint of scorn that hurt. It looked as if he must 
pay for his philandering, but the payment was not 
yet. Then his moodiness began to vanish. He 
would get a useful sum and had put off the reck¬ 
oning. His habit was to trust his luck and as a 
rule his luck was good. Besides, after all, Coral 
really was an attractive girl. 


XIV 


THE TIDE TURNS 

S UMMER was going, but the sun was hot and a 
cloud of flies followed Caverhill’s horses. The 
trail went up-hill and the light wagon jolted in the 
holes. Bob was going to the steamboat landing for 
supplies and Helen occupied the other end of the 
spring seat. The red dust the wheels threw up 
powdered her hot skin and the jarring springs shook 
her about. She held on by the rail and, when the 
team went slowly, studied Bob. 

Bob's brown face was thin and his look was 
rather stern. At the beginning Helen had remarked 
his tranquillity, but the tranquillity was gone. 
Harry had urged her to excite her lover’s ambition, 
and, to some extent, because she liked to use her 
power, she had done so. Now she began to sense 
in her husband qualities she had not thought were 
his and sometimes it looked as if her experiment 
were rash. Bob went where she had wanted him 
to go, but his efforts to push ahead absorbed him 
and he left her alone. Although Helen admitted 
she ought to be resigned, she was not. Moreover, 
Bob’s plans for the settlement were not Harry’s 
plans. 


132 


133 


THE TIDE TURNS 

After a time, she turned her head and looked 
about. Tall, black pines rolled down the hill and 
their trunks were like rows of columns. On the 
other side, rocks and gravel dropped to a lake, 
shining like a mirror in the dusky woods. In the 
background, snow, touched by faint blue shadow, 
cut the sky. When the beat of horses’ feet got slow 
Helen heard a woodpecker tap a hollow tree, but 
this was all and only the track of wheels indicated 
that man had broken the brooding calm. 

The woodpecker, flashing luminous red and 
green, flew across the trail and vanished, but when 
the team had nearly climbed the hill the measured 
tap began again. Helen thought the noise strangely 
distinct. 

“Is it another woodpecker? Oh, perhaps, a blue 
grouse?” she asked. 

“I expect it’s an ax,” said Bob. “I don’t know 
who’s chopping, but we’ll soon find out.” 

He urged the horses across the top of the hill and 
when they plunged down the incline Helen saw 
another team some distance in front. People moved 
about a wagon and a twinkling flash indicated that 
somebody used an ax. Then a pine lurched away 
from the dark-green mass and was lost in a cloud 
of dust. 

A few minutes afterwards Bob pulled up. Blue 
smoke floated across the trail and two or three 
women were occupied by a fire. A group of tired 


134 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


and dusty children lay in the brushwood by a creek, 
and two men pulled a big saw across a trunk. The 
wagon was loaded with shiplap boards and Helen 
noted the smell of fresh-sawn wood and the folded 
tent on top. The ground about the wagon was soft 
and water sparkled in the channels the wheels had 
cut. When Bob stopped, a man went to the other 
horses. 

“Don’t bother,” said Bob. “Your team’s used 
up and I can get past. Where are you for?” 

“Helensville. Can we get there by dark?” 

Bob started and Helen saw he did not know 
Harry had called the settlement for her, but he said 
to the man, “I doubt if you can make it and you 
had better camp by Stony Creek. Your load’s 
pretty big and before you haul the stuff across you 
want to put a number of small logs in the mud.” 

“Looks like that,” the other agreed. “Cording 
up the blamed muskegs we’ve hit since we left the 
landing makes me tired. If I’d known the Govern¬ 
ment gang hadn’t got busy, I’d have waited for the 
boys behind to fix the trail.” 

“Then another lot has arrived?” 

“Sure. Most a steamboat load. One gang 
shipped a tractor and we allowed we ought to get 
going before she pulled out.” 

“But did you imagine the Government had begun 
to grade the road?” 

“That is so. When we put our stuff on board 


THE TIDE TURNS 135 

we inquired if we could haul a proper load to 
Helensville. ,, 

“What are you going to do at the settlement ?” 

“I’m a pretty good carpenter and expect to hit 
a building job. Jake’s notion is to keep a store.” 

Bob started the horses and Helen saw he frowned. 

“It’s strange!” he said. “So far as I know, the 
Provincial Government has not yet engaged to make 
a road.” 

“Harry is satisfied the Government will do so,” 
Helen rejoined. 

“Your brother’s hopeful,” Bob remarked, rather 
dryly. “In the meantime, his customers are trying 
to haul building lumber and household fixings over 
a very bad mountain trail. I expect some are not 
at all satisfied and it looks as if a number must 
wait for a job. There’s another thing. Did Harry 
inquire if he might call the settlement for you?” 

“He did not,” said Helen and blushed, for she 
knew Maxwell had not meant her to see the 
pamphlet advertisement. “Are you annoyed about 
it, Bob?” 

“I don’t know,” Bob replied. “I don’t want my 
wife to stand for a land-boom speculation; but after 
all, my object is to start a manufacturing settle¬ 
ment. Anyhow, since the settlement is Helensville, 
it has got to prosper.” 

“Sometimes you’re rather nice, Bob,” Helen re¬ 
marked and smiled. 


136 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


On the next hill they met a wagon carrying bat¬ 
tered furniture. A woman lay on some flour bags 
and Helen thought she slept; two or three children 
trailed behind the wheels. Farther on, a string of 
pack-horses blocked the trail, and some distance 
behind a man pushed a wheelbarrow. One could 
not see much of his body across the load. Then a 
row of men carrying heavy packs plodded in the 
dust. They breathed hard and their skin was wet 
by sweat. For the most part, their clothes were 
shabby, and the faces of some were pinched. Helen 
saw broken boots, and stockings made from slit 
flour bags, but the men’s eyes were fixed in front 
and they labored stubbornly forward. She was 
moved by the strangers’ pluck. 

“They’re poor people, Bob,” she said. 

“A wagon and team cost something, but I expect 
these folk invested all their wad. In the West, the 
boys are pioneers and reckon what flesh and blood 
can do they can do. They mean to make good and 
I must help. Duff’s has got their money, but the 
keystone block was mine and I’m accountable.” 

“Do you think you really are accountable ? After 
all, the people speculated. The risk is theirs.” 

“It looks as if they speculated on my partner’s 
statements,” said Bob. “They bought small blocks 
of bush land for a high price, because they believed 
the bush land would soon carry a town. They 
bought a chance to trade and follow their occupa- 


THE TIDE TURNS 137 

tion, and they must get the chance. Fm not much 
of an economist, but I don’t take folks’ money for 
goods I can’t put up.” 

Helen liked his honesty; she rather liked his fixed 
grave look. She knew Bob, in a sense, was some¬ 
thing of an aristocrat. 

“You are just,” she said. “Still, to some extent, 
I rather think pride accounts for your resolve.” 

“It’s possible,” said Bob and smiled. “My job’s 
not to peddle town lots, but to make things grow. 
Anyhow, sit tight and hold fast. We must give the 
gang in front the trail.” 

They had reached the top of a hill and Helen saw 
a cloud of dust roll up the incline. Slanted sun¬ 
beams touched the tossing cloud and in the luminous 
haze bright steel flashed. Behind the sparkling 
metal a vague high mass lurched about. The rattle 
of heavy wheels and a harsh measured throb echoed 
in the rocks, and Helen knew a tractor pulled a load 
up the slope. 

For a few moments the dust got thin and the 
tractor and a trailer wagon, carrying a big stack 
of boards, were distinct. In the woods, the noisy 
machine’s utilitarian ugliness jarred, and when Bob 
turned his horses Helen saw his mouth was tight. 

He steered the frightened animals round stumps 
and holes, and Helen felt Bob and his beautiful, 
spirited horses belonged to the woods. The tractor 
did not, but the machine had driven the team from 


138 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

the trail. Helen wondered whether its doing so 
was ominous. 

The noise stopped and the dust rolled away. Men 
jumped from the trailer and went into the bush. 
Axes sparkled and a small pine fell. Then men 
were strangely quick, for a few moments after the 
tree fell one dragged branches across the trail and 
another pulled a short log in front of the machine. 
Then an uproar began. Broken branches, stones 
and mud leaped about the tractor, and the wheels 
of Bob’s wagon sank in boggy soil. 

When he was level with the tractor a horrible 
smell floated about the trail. The engine roared 
and the measured stroke of axes faintly pierced the 
din. Men pushed brush and small split logs under 
the churning wheels. The red dust was on their 
greasy clothes; their faces were wet by sweat. They 
gasped and swore and labored savagely. One 
stopped and waved to Bob. 

“Say, have you got much road like this?” 

“You’ll hit two or three more soft spots,” Bob 
replied, and tried to hold his plunging team. 

“Then I want the fellow who allowed we’d find 
a useful trail. When I get on his track I’ll take 
a club along!” 

Bob frowned. “The trail is pretty mean. To 
lighten of! some lumber might pay.” 

“I guess not. There’s another load at the wharf 
and we engaged to dump this lot at Helensville in 


THE TIDE TURNS 139 

the morning. If we have to cord up your muskegs 
all the way, the stuff is going through.” 

Bob let his team go and Helen, looking back, saw 
the tractor climb out of the hole. Then she looked 
at Bob and knew him annoyed. 

“Will they get to the lake?” she asked. 

“Certainly,” said Bob. “If you knew the type, 
you wouldn’t doubt. Sometimes the boys are rash, 
but when they rashly undertake an awkward job 
they stay with it.” 

Helen knew the others’ rule was Bob’s rule, al¬ 
though he was not rash. Harry was rash, but so 
far all he had undertaken he splendidly carried out. 

Yet sometimes she wondered- Helen frowned, 

and feeling herself shabby for wondering, resumed: 

“If people arrived like this, the town site would 
soon be occupied.” 

“I expect they waited for the Maud to carry them 
along the coast and the next lot won’t arrive until 
she comes back in two or three weeks. All the 
same, it looks as if Harry had started something 
of a boom.” 

“Suppose he sells all the keystone block?” 

“Then we stop!”* said Bob. “We want manu¬ 
factures to carry the settlement. To sell a fresh 
lot of sites would be like printing paper currency 
when you haven’t got the gold the bills stand for.” 

“But you have got the land. And if people give 
you money for the bills, you have got the money.” 



THE BUSH-RANCHER 


;i40 

“The argument’s plausible, but I don’t know- 

Suppose you use the money to advertise that your 
bills are good? I imagine Harry’s using some.” 

“I think you do not trust Harry as you ought 
to trust your partner,” Helen rejoined. 

Bob said nothing. As a rule, when she began to 
dispute he was quiet, and she looked about. The 
sun was getting low. In places, a level beam 
touched a straight red trunk, but for the most part 
the rocks and woods were dim. Yet far along the 
trail smears of dust marked the settlers’ advance. 
The tide Maxwell had waited for had begun to run 
and Helen knew she had helped him call the 
strangers to the wilds. Yet, now they had arrived, 
she was vaguely disturbed. 

When Bob stopped at the steamboat landing dusk 
had fallen, but flaring blast-lamps drove back the 
dark. A wooden steamer was tied to the piles and 
the smoke from her stack rolled about the wharf. 
Winches rattled, wire-rope clanged; sawn lumber, 
bales and boxes plunged down the gangway. Men 
dragged about the cargo, searched for their goods, 
and disputed angrily. Lights burned in all the win¬ 
dows of the small hotel and where the dark woods 
met the beach tents shone like paper lanterns. The 
landlord, however, had kept Bob a room and when 
Helen and he had got some food they went to the 
wharf. 



THE TIDE TURNS 141 

“It’s the beginning of a new age, Bob. I don’t 
think you approve,” she said. 

Bob smiled, but his smile was thoughtful. “My 
approval’s not important; for a time I’ve got to 
help. All the same, I’m a pioneer, and a pioneer is 
an individualist.” 

“You imply that you take your own line and 
don’t go with the crowd?” 

“Something like that,” Bob agreed. “The pioneer 
uses the ax and packhorse; this crowd must co¬ 
operate to use expensive machines. For example, 
the tractor we met makes one journey where I 
must make six; but when you use tractors you want 
another gang to grade the road. The pioneer 
pushes on, alone, and breaks the trail.” 

“But do not the cooperators and their machines 
catch him up?” 

“That is so,” said Bob. “They occupy the 
ground we clear. When they arrive we load the 
packhorse and push ahead again.” 

“It looks dreary. Women are not nomadic; they 
like a fixed habitation,” Helen remarked and began 
to muse. 


XV 


WITH THE STREAM 

D UFF’S office was quiet and the clerks were 
gone, but the last to go had brought the 
evening mail from the postoffice. Maxwell turned 
over the envelopes and then reached for a glass in 
an open drawer. He drained the glass and, resting 
his arms on the table, leaned forward wearily. 

He had not had much lunch, and unless he again 
put off business he ought to have transacted in the 
morning, he must go without supper. Now he 
thought about it, he had not for two or three weeks 
bothered about food. Sometimes he plunged into 
a quick-lunch counter and sometimes he braced him¬ 
self by a drink. Well, he needed bracing and liquor 
helped him to bear the strain, but when the strain 
got slacker he must stop. 

For a few moments he balanced his paper-knife 
and hesitated. Perhaps he was ridiculous, but he 
rather shrank from opening the envelopes. He 
knew Duff’s hand, and another envelope was from 
a member of the provincial parliament. Maxwell 
was not a politician and he doubted the member’s 
willingness to give the help he asked. 

A street car rolled noisily by and he heard loco- 

142 


WITH THE STREAM 


143 


motive bells at the wharf. A' steamer whistled and 
the long trembling blast echoed in the tall office 
blocks. Then all was quiet and Maxwell wanted to 
put up his feet and go to sleep, but a pile of docu¬ 
ments occupied the table and he must soon meet a 
customer at the C. P. R. Hotel. 

At length the tide had turned and, if he could 
keep afloat, would carry him far. The trouble was, 
he was tired and the stream went faster than he 
had thought. He wanted money and he wanted 
time. If one had pluck, to start a real estate boom 
was not hard; to keep the boom going was another 
thing. Maxwell had persuaded speculators the set¬ 
tlement would go, people bought the Main Street 
frontages, and some gave him money for options, 
and back lots he was not yet ready to transfer. 
They did not run much risk, because so long as the 
boom continued they could sell their claims. 

Maxwell, however, ran a risk. The money he got 
melted in extravagant hospitality and expensive 
advertisement. Then the road to Helensville he 
had talked about was not made; he had taken it for 
granted the Government would bear most of the 
cost. Moreover, he was bothered about his part¬ 
ner’s return. If Duff arrived before they were 
ready for him, he would get a nasty knock. 

For all that, Maxwell imagined he could pres¬ 
ently cut down expenses, and the member of par¬ 
liament might get him a grant for the road. Then 


144 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


• he hoped to persuade an important gentleman to 
build a mill, and Bob need not know all the persua¬ 
sion cost. Bob was not an accountant and, if Max¬ 
well’s luck were good, when Duff knew, the ex¬ 
travagance would be justified. 

He cut Duff’s envelope and his strained look re¬ 
laxed. Tom was not coming, back yet. He had 
met an American engineer at Seward and thought 
he would make an excursion along the Alaskan coast 
to examine a new mineral claim. The speculation 
looked good, an.d if Maxwell thought their bank¬ 
roll would stand for it, Duff might risk a small 
sum. 

Maxwell knew the bank-roll would not stand for 
it, but he did not want to disturb Duff, and if the 
mine interested Tom, he might stay in Alaska for 
some time. He let it go and opened the letter from 
the member of the provincial parliament. 

The member used some caution. He stated that 
he had weighed the claims Maxwell urged. The 
Government admitted its duty was to encourage the 
development of manufacturing settlements, and 
where a wagon road was obviously needed a grant 
was made. For all that, taxes were high, and 
public funds must not be used for speculators’ ex¬ 
periments. When Maxwell could satisfy the depart¬ 
ment that factories were being started, the member 
would see what he could do. 

Maxwell put down the letter and smiled, a dreary 


WITH THE STREAM 


145 


smile. In order to get a road, he must build the 
settlement, but the settlement would not progress 
much until the road was made. It looked as if he 
must undertake the work, and to start would banish 
the settlers’, and perhaps the Government’s, doubts. 
After all, to build a corduroy track across a few 
muskegs was not expensive and Maxwell resolved 
to send off a chopper gang. 

Then he heard steps and turned his revolving 
chair, for a woman opened the door. Maxwell did 
not see her face, because the light was concentrated 
on his desk, but her figure was tall and when she 
advanced he knew her walk. 

“Coral!” he said and began to get up. 

She stopped him, and pulling off her cloak, turned 
the opposite chair. 

“I can stay for a few minutes,” she said. 

Maxwell saw her cloak was silk and her clothes 
were fashionable. It looked as if Coral were 
dressed for a ball. The thin, dark material har¬ 
monized with her black hair and eyes; in the soft 
light her finely molded arms and shoulders shone. 
Maxwell brushed the papers off his desk. 

“You’re altogether beautiful!” he said. 

She gave him a curious smile. “Then, you didn’t 
know ?” 

“In a way, of course, I did know,” Maxwell re¬ 
plied, with a touch of embarrassment. “But some¬ 
how to-night-” 



146 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

“You like my clothes? Well, maybe my notion 
about pretty clothes was a road-house girl’s notion, 
and when I studied up your sister I went to another 
store; but there's nothing to that. If you have the 
money, you can buy smart clothes." 

Maxwell saw Coral enjoyed her triumph. As a 
rule, she was frank, but now he thought her frank¬ 
ness proud. It was not for nothing she talked about 
the road-house. 

“One can’t buy beauty like yours," he remarked. 
“But why didn’t you ’phone you were in town? 
I’d have met you-’’ 

“You reckon I ought not to come to your office?" 
said Coral and laughed. “Shucks! I’m the girl 
who put you off the car not long since.’’ 

“I had not then engaged to marry you," said 
Maxwell thoughtfully. 

“Looks as if you’d forgotten you did engage," 
Coral rejoined in a quiet voice. 

Maxwell frowned. He had not meant to marry 
Coral and when he went to the road-house he knew 
himself a fool. For all that, her physical charm 
was marked and Maxwell’s habit was not to hesi¬ 
tate; he trusted his luck and went ahead. The 
trouble was, Coral and Ellmer had led him farther 
than he had thought to go. Yet her beauty moved 
him and he was flesh and blood. 

“If you knew all I’m up against, you wouldn’t 
talk like that," he said. “I’m not rich and I expect 



WITH THE STREAM 


147 


you don’t want a poor husband. Well, I mean to 
get rich, but the risk I must run is daunting and 
sometimes I’m scared. All is strain and effort, and 
now I think the tide has turned, the strain gets 
worse. Unless I fight hard, I must go under, and 
if I go under, I expect it’s for good. In fact, you 
see, I dare not yet think about marrying.” 

“That accounts for your leaving me alone?” 

“It’s all that accounts for it,” Maxwell declared. 

“Well,” said Coral quietly, “I knew how you 
were fixed.” 

“You knew?” Maxwell exclaimed and looked at 
her hard. 

“Sure! At a road-house people talk and the 
automobile boys talk business; I’m not a fool, and 
Pop is pretty keen. You took steep chances on the 
Helensville scheme and the scheme near broke you. 
When you were nearly broke, I got busy. Pop 
bought some lots and began to talk up the settle¬ 
ment. Pop doesn’t talk much, but when he starts, 
folks listen.” 

Maxwell admitted that when Ellmer bought the 
lots his money was almost gone and his getting a 
good sum marked the turning-point. Coral was 
not cultivated, but she was clever and very stanch. 

“Your help was worth much,” he said, with a 
touch of emotion. “I was nearly broke.” 

Coral turned her head and Maxwell thought the 
blood came to her skin. Then she looked up. 


148 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“But now your luck has turned, you have no use 
for a road-house girl? Well, if you don’t want me, 
I will let you go.” 

Maxwell’s doubts vanished. Coral’s sparkling 
black eyes, her proud look, and her beautiful shining 
arms accounted for much, but not for all. Although 
he felt the call of flesh and blood, he knew her keen 
and brave and generous. Moreover, he knew his 
shabbiness. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he declared. “I do want 
you, more than anything I have wanted yet. But, 
for your sake, I mustn’t leave my office and loaf 
about the road-house.” 

“I want straight talk, Harry; white man’s talk.” 

Maxwell leaned forward and seized her hands. 
“There’s no use in talking, Coral. I won’t try.” 

She hesitated, but he pulled her to her feet and 
took her in his arms. Coral’s arms went round his 
neck, and although he had not meant to make the 
plunge, he knew he was not rash. Coral was his, 
and when he faced risk and trouble she would not 
flinch. The road-house girl was not his sort: she 
was a better sort. By and by she gently pushed 
him back. 

“I mustn’t stay. Pop is at the hotel and we are 
going to the show at the opera house. Now you 
see why I wear these clothes.” 

“It’s not at all important, You have a number 
of grounds for wearing pretty clothes,” Maxwell 


WITH THE STREAM 


149 


remarked and smiled. “Well, your father mustn’t 
wait and I am going with you to the play. I sup¬ 
pose Mr. Ellmer knows where you are?” 

“He doesn’t know,” said Coral rather proudly. 
“Looks as if you don’t, know Pop.” 

Maxwell was satisfied. To think the truculent 
saloon-keeper approved Coral’s going to the office 
had rather bothered him. Then Coral indicated the 
documents. 

“I reckon you ought to stay with your job!” 

“That is so. I ought to meet an important gen¬ 
tleman at his hotel. All the same, I’m going to 
the play. Well, I must call the fellow on the 
’phone.” 

“You can go to-night. Another time you 
mustn’t,” said Coral firmly and waited until Max¬ 
well used the telephone. Then she indicated the 
liquor, which he had forgotten. 

“Where do you keep that stuff?” 

“In the cupboard,” said Maxwell with a touch of 
awkwardness. 

“Put it there! Lock the cupboard!” 

Maxwell laughed, but Coral gave him a steady 
look. 

“It’s not a joke, and I want the key. I have no 
use for a tanker, and if you mean to make good at 
Helensville, you have got to cut out drinks.” 

Maxwell gave Coral the key and held her cloak. 
She blushed and turned impulsively and kissed him. 


150 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“You’re all I want, Harry, but I do want you, and 
I’m jealous-” 

Then she put her hand on his arm. 
start-” 


“Well, let’s 




XVI 


maxwell’s hesitation 

T>OB, stopping on the veranda steps, saw the 
mounted mail-carrier pull down the fence rails 
across the clearing. 

“Since I started in the morning, something or 
another has held me up and now I must wait for 
the letters!” he remarked. 

Helen said nothing. Bob was tired and moody. 
The sawmill he had bought did not run properly 
and he did not make much progress at the dam. 
Then she knew he was bothered because Duff did 
not return, and since it implied that he did not trust 
Maxwell, his uneasiness hurt. In fact, when he not 
long since stated he had called Maxwell to the 
ranch she resolved to go back with her brother 
for a holiday. 

In the meantime she looked about. Some dis¬ 
tance from the clearing, a belt of ashes, dotted by 
half-burned log piles, marked the end of the town 
site. Behind the burned belt were tents in uneven 
rows, and the white skeletons of houses the builders 
had not yet covered by shiplap boards. Some 

houses, however, were finished and Helen thought 

151 


152 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

them ugly and mean. She frankly hated the store 
with a big black-and-white signboard across its 
front. The square front was carried up above the 
roof, so that the shabbily ambitious building looked 
larger than it was. 

The settlement had begun to grow, but Helen ad¬ 
mitted its growth was not beautiful and sometimes 
she rather sympathized with Bob. Yet, although 
she knew he hated to see the quiet woods disturbed, 
he labored with savage energy for the springing 
town. Well, Bob was not logical, and perhaps she 
was not. 

When the mail-carrier pulled some letters from 
his bag, Bob tore open an envelope. He turned to 
the man and his look was rather grim. 

“Has the Maud brought a big load?” 

“She was not full up,” said the other. “I guess 
the rush is tailing off. All the same, she carried 
some passengers and a big stack of sawn posts and 
boards. Fellow called Ellmer’s for putting up a 
hotel. The steamboat mate allowed he runs an 
automobilists’ road-house back of Vancouver.” 

Bob studied Helen. Maxwell had presented a 
Miss Ellmer, and Bob had thought her the sort of 
girl to attract city sports. Nothing indicated that 
Helen remembered, but Bob had begun to know his 
wife. 

“Since we have a settlement, I expect we must 
reckon on somebody’s starting a saloon, but I im- 


MAXWELL’S HESITATION 153 


agine the fellow, whom I met, won’t make trouble,” 
he said and turned to the mail-carrier. “The cook 
will put you up some hash.” 

The man went off and Helen mused. She re¬ 
membered Miss Ellmer and knew Bob did so. For 
him to say nothing about it was perhaps the proper 
line, but she was annoyed. 

“Harry’s not on board the Maud. He states he’s 
occupied and can’t get off,” Bob resumed. 

“Ah!” said Helen. “Then I can’t go back with 
the steamer.” 

“Are you keen to go?” 

Helen wanted to go, but not altogether because 
she wanted Maxwell’s society. Bob and she had 
jarred and she was jealous of the thought he gave 
the dam. If she left him for a time, she could 
weigh things calmly and the strain she had recently 
felt might vanish on her return. Besides, she was 
disturbed about Maxwell. 

“My room at the hotel is engaged,” she said. 

“Then you must come along with me. I am 
going to Vancouver by the boat.” 

“But you didn’t mean to go!” 

Bob smiled, but his smile was rather stern. “Oh, 
well! Since Harry won’t come to the ranch, I must 
go to town.” 

“Do you imply he would not come, if it were 
possible ?” 

“It looks like that,” said Bob rather dryly. 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


154 

“After all, Harry is not your servant. I expect 
you ordered him to start.” 

“He's my partner; but since he states he can’t 
get off I must indulge him. Why are you an¬ 
noyed ?” 

“Oh,” said Helen, “the line you take is altogether 
wrong! When Harry wanted you to join him you 
ought not to have agreed. You doubted his plan; 
you doubted Harry, and when you don’t trust your 
partner his efforts go for nothing. You’re not gen¬ 
erous, Bob. To carry out an ambitious plan one 
needs enthusiasm, but you’re cold.” 

“I’m forced to use some caution. After all, I 
sold the keystone block and my job’s not to frame 
up a real estate boom. A number of poor folks 
bet all they had on the settlement’s going ahead and 
I must see they’re not exploited-” 

“Perhaps you ought to stop,” said Helen with 
ominous quietness. “You imply that if you do not 
protect the people who bought the block, Harry 
might exploit their trustfulness. Harry is my 
brother; it’s important, because I expect his draw¬ 
backs are mine. He’s optimistic and doesn’t use 
caution like yours. Well, I do not; I hate people 
who calculate. If you think he runs a risk and 
lets others pay, I do something like that. Perhaps 
when you married me you were rash.” 

Bob fought for control. He loved his wife and 
although her coldness hurt, he had tried to indulge 



MAXWELL’S HESITATION 155 

her. He had joined Maxwell’s speculation because 
she urged it, but he had gone as far as he meant 
to go. The Helensville settlers must get a square 
deal. 

“I doubt if I was rash, and so far to meet the 
bill has not cost me much,” he said. “Anyhow, 
we are married and there’s no use in disputing.” 

Helen thought Bob did not know where to stop. 
At the beginning he had struck the proper note, 
but when he resumed his philosophical coolness 
jarred. 

“Oh, well! Perhaps it’s not important,” she re¬ 
joined. “If one wants to interest you, one must 
talk about the dam!” 

Bob went down the steps and Helen went off to 
pack her clothes, because she was resolved to join 
Maxwell. She reflected with rather dreary humor 
that for her to stay away would not embarrass Bob. 
For one thing, she had not meddled with his rude 
housekeeping and the man who kept the supplies 
and cooked for the ranch hands was clever. In 
fact, if the fellow went, Bob himself could cook. 
All she had really done was to criticize. Helen 
began to see that Bob had given much, but she had 
not. Well, when she came back she must try to 
take another line. 

Two days afterward, Maxwell leaned against a 
post on the Vancouver wharf. At the end of the 
wharf the big, white Victoria boat waited for the 


156 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Pacific express. Steam blew from her escape pipe 
and her winches rattled. A snorting yard locomo¬ 
tive pushed some freight cars off the main track; 
another locomotive, of the powerful mountain type, 
was coupled to a row of cars in a siding. Maxwell 
heard the pumps throb and imagined the train 
would start for the Rockies as soon as the line 
was clear. 

Then a plume of smoke rolled about the pines at 
the Narrows and an old wooden steamer came 
round the point. Maxwell knew the Maud and 
wondered whether Caverhill was on board. He did 
not want to see Bob and imagined he would not 
leave the dam, but he did not know and since the 
suspense was keen he had gone to the wharf. Max¬ 
well was frankly disturbed. He had sold a large 
number of lots, but the money he got went and 
for two or three weeks he had not transacted much 
fresh business. Although he expected the demand 
to revive, he was embarrassed, and if his partners 
meddled, it might be awkward. Duff was in the 
wilds and would not bother him, but Caverhill 
might arrive in a few minutes. 

Maxwell pictured Caverhill’s anger if he found 
out the entanglements in which he was involved. 
Bob was ridiculously scrupulous and obstinate. All 
the same, Maxwell hardly thought Bob was on 
board, and if he were not, he would go to the hotel 
and order a long drink. 


MAXWELL’S HESITATION 157 


The Maud steamed up to the wharf, and when 
the ropes were thrown Helen waved from the rail. 
A few moments afterwards Maxwell saw Bob and 
with something of an effort went to the gangway. 
Helen gave him her hand, but said nothing, for a 
whistle echoed in the tall lumber stacks and the 
Pacific express rolled along the waterfront. When 
the noise began to die away Bob pulled a letter from 
his pocket, and Maxwell, who knew the letter form, 
got a knock. He had thought he had satisfied 
Jordan, but if the fellow had grumbled to Caver- 

hill- Bob, however, turned and indicated a 

man who crossed the wharf. 

"‘Hello!” he said. “Isn’t that Alsager going for 
the Victoria boat?” 

“I think not. If Alsager had been in town, he 
would have looked me up,” said Maxwell, who 
did not want Bob to meet the other. “But look out 
for the yard engine.” 

Bob moved a foot or two, his glance fixed on the 
man. 

“He’s very like Alsager.” 

The yard engine rolled by noisily and the steam¬ 
er’s whistle screamed. Then another bell began to 
toll and Maxwell saw the big freight locomotive 
cross the switches. The long train was starting 
and Bob was between the rails, but it looked as if 
he did not see the engine, and Helen faced the other 
way. Maxwell’s heart beat and his skin got wet by 



158 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


sweat. Bob must not meet Alsager, and Maxwell 
was horribly disturbed about the letter from Jordan. 
In fact, if Bob knew much about the transaction, it 
would break their partnership. 

He saw the high front of the locomotive a few 
yards behind Bob’s back, and imagined the boiler 
cut the engineer’s view. Thick black smoke and 
steam blew across the track, the jolting cars swung 
over the switches and the train gathered speed, but 
Bob was occupied watching Alsager, and the yard 
engine and the steamer’s winches almost drowned 
the locomotive’s snorts. 

Maxwell clenched his hands and hesitated, and 
then a swift reaction began. He shivered with 
horror, braced himself, and jumped. Seizing Bob’s 
arm, he pulled him strongly back. Bob staggered 
and lost his balance. It looked as if they must fall 
under the wheels, but Maxwell did not let go. After 
his hesitation, to let Bob be killed was unthinkable. 
He must drag him clear. His foot struck the out¬ 
side rail. Another effort would throw him and Bob 
backwards out of danger; and then he got a heavy 
blow- 

A few moments afterwards somebody pulled him 
up and he saw people run to the spot. A man had 
siezed Helen and Maxwell thought she fought. The 
big freight cars rolled on and Bob lay by the jar¬ 
ring wheels. It looked as if he were dead; and then 



MAXWELL’S HESITATION 159 


for a minute or two Maxwell knew nothing more. 

By and by he pushed away the man who sup¬ 
ported him and saw Helen knelt on the dusty 
planks. He could not see Bob, because people 
pushed about, but Alsager and two or three railroad 
men tried to keep off the crowd. 

“Stand back! You mustn’t move him until we 
get the doctor,” Alsager shouted. “Has that fellow 
gone to the ’phone?” 

“You can’t go to your partner,” the man who 
had picked up Maxwell remarked and pushed him 
to a truck. “Sit right down. Don’t you know 
your head’s cut?” 

Maxwell did not know, but when he dully 
touched his head he saw his hand was wet with 
blood. 

Two wharf-hands brought a stretcher and a car 
lurched across the tracks. A man jumped down 
and by and by the movement of the crowd indicated 
that they put Bob on the stretcher. Then Helen, 
Alsager, and a man carrying a small bag came to 
Maxwell. Helen’s face was very white and her 
lips were pale. 

“You saved Bob,” she said in a faint voice. “Are 
you much hurt?” 

“Then Bob’s not killed?” said Maxwell and 
looked the other way. 

“He’s certainly not killed,” the doctor replied. 


160 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


‘‘The locomotive knocked him off the track, but 

some bones are broken- However, I want to 

see your head. ,, 

“If I’d jumped a moment sooner-” Maxwell 

resumed. 

“Perhaps you were lucky because you didn’t 
jump a moment later,” Alsager remarked. “Any¬ 
how, the doctor’s waiting and must go with Caver- 
hill.” 

The doctor examined Maxwell’s cut and stated 
that it would not long bother him. Then he went 
back to the stretcher, Helen vanished, and a few 
moments afterwards an ambulance arrived. When 
the ambulance was gone a man took Maxwell’s arm 
and put him in a car. Although Maxwell’s head 
hurt, he was dully conscious of relief. Bob was 
not killed, but it looked as if he would not for some 
time meddle with Duff’s business. 




XVII 


HELEN PONDERS 

F OR a time the noisy elevators had stopped and 
all was quiet at the big hotel. Helen’s room 
was near the flat roof. She liked the sense of 
height and spaciousness, and when she came in she 
pulled a chair to the window. The night was cold 
but the keen air was bracing, and now the worst 
strain was over her brain and body were tired. She 
wanted to rest and indulge her poignant satisfac¬ 
tion. 

Bob was going to get better, although the doctor 
thought his recovery might be long. Helen had 
returned from the private hospital and rather lan¬ 
guidly pictured the quiet room, the watchful nurse, 
and Bob on the narrow bed, his skin almost as 
white as the linen. He could not move his body, 
but at length he was conscious and when Helen 
stole into the room he turned his head and smiled. 

Helen’s pity carried her away. She had, not long 
since, with some pride in her husband’s strength 
and balance, watched him swing the ax; now it 
looked as if he were altogether broken. For all 
that, when he very feebly felt for her hand pity was 

lost in another emotion and her color came and 

161 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


162 

went. Bob was hurt and needed her; although he 
had some grounds to think she did not love him 
much, he gave her all his trust. Helen kissed him 
and turned her head. She was ashamed, but she 
must not disturb Bob and she tried for calm. 

After a time Bob went to sleep and the nurse 
sent her away. She went unwillingly, jealous of 
the woman who could help where she could not, but 
now she was alone her heart beat with a strange 
sense of triumph. Bob was going to get better and 
he was her lover yet. All the same, when she re¬ 
captured his trustful look and the touch of his slack 
hand she began to cry. 

Presently Helen rubbed her eyes and looked 
about. To look down from the window was like 
looking down the face of a cliff; the street was like 
a canyon and big electric lights marked the bottom 
by spots of light. The trolley cars had stopped, but 
one heard locomotive bells and rolling wheels by 
the wharf. The moon was on the Inlet and ships’ 
masts and funnels cut the silver reflections. Behind 
the dim woods on the other side, the hills were 
white, for the snow crept down the rocks. When 
Helen first knew Bob the snowline went back 
and up. 

She mused about her meeting Bob at Shadow 
Lake, and admitted that she was something of an 
adventuress. Yet she had not altogether married 
Bob because he was rich. She liked his strength 


HELEN PONDERS 


163 


and his athletic figure. Sometimes Helen was ro¬ 
mantic and she had studied art. She thought she 
sensed in Bob something austerely aristocratic that 
marked the old Greeks, although he was rather 
Spartan than Athenian. Then the bold speculation 
Maxwell planned had called. Helen was ambitious, 
she wanted to help, and she made the plunge. 

Now she saw that to jar with Bob for Harry’s 
sake was ridiculous. Bob was a finer type than 
Harry; in fact, Helen wondered whether she had 
disputed with her husband because she herself had 
begun to doubt her brother. Yet when Bob did not 
see the freight train Harry jumped in front of the 
locomotive. Helen had long known his pluck, but 
she was puzzled. 

For one thing, the man Bob saw was Alsager, but 
Harry declared it was not, although he knew Al- 
sager better than Bob. Then she imagined Harry 
faced the train and perhaps his not shouting was 
strange. He went to Bob’s help, but he did not go 
until the locomotive had almost reached the spot. 
Harry admitted something like this, and when he 
did so Alsager remarked that he was lucky because 
he did not go a moment later. 

On the surface the remark was stupid and per¬ 
haps cruel, but Helen did not think Alsager cruel. 
In fact, he was kind, and Bob owed much to his 
coolness. Helen did not see a light and resolved 
she would not dwell on things like that. After all, 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


164 

Harry did pull Bob from the track. She was very 
tired and she must try to sleep. Since Bob was 
knocked down she had not slept at all. Getting up 
languidly, she went to bed. 

When Helen telephoned that the doctor expected 
Bob to recover Maxwell was at his office. His 
clerks had gone and after he put down the telephone 
he pushed away the papers with which he was oc¬ 
cupied and leaned slackly on the table. His hands 
shook and he felt his skin get wet. The relief the 
message gave him was keen and not altogether 
selfish, although Helen stated it might be long be¬ 
fore Bob got about. 

Since the accident at the wharf Maxwell had 
carried a heavy load; in a sense, he had carried 
two loads. Although to think Bob might die was 
horrible, Maxwell had feared his quick recovery. 
Well, Bob was not going to die, but he would not 
for some time bother him. Maxwell had got the 
time he wanted, and when Bob was able to reach 
the office he rather thought the crisis he now faced 
would be over. 

He let it go and tried moodily to recapture his 
part in the accident. He knew the risk he ran did 
not altogether account for his hesitating to jump 
on the track. The traditions of his house took 
physical pluck for granted and at a famous school 
he was a leader at athletic games. He was not 
afraid. For a moment or two he was willing for 


HELEN PONDERS 165 

Caverhill to go under the wheels. Maxwell shiv¬ 
ered. The thing was frankly horrible, but he had 
meant to let Bob go. His treachery shocked and 
puzzled him; he had not thought himself a brute. 

At Oxford he was rash, but his rashness was not 
shabby and he had paid for his faults. When he 
planned to build Helensville, to some extent, his 
object was good. He had not thought to cheat his 
partners; yet he had cheated and but for the acci¬ 
dent at the wharf he must have faced the reckon¬ 
ing. Perhaps the strange thing was, now he rather 
thought he had put off the reckoning for good, it 
was not important. He had got a horrible jar, and 
he tried to ponder where he had gone and where 
he went. 

Maxwell’s temperament was not criminal. He 
was generous and sometimes thought for others. 
His talents and charm were marked, but he was not 
scrupulous. A risk did not daunt him; he was an 
optimist and sometimes his bold imagination car¬ 
ried him away. The object he meant to get was 
all he saw. 

Now his nerve was broken. He was afraid for, 
and of, himself. He needed support and must not 
use Helen’s. Helen imagined he had saved Bob’s 
life, but although he had perhaps done so, he was 
accountable for Bob’s getting hurt. He could not 
cheat Helen and he dared not enlighten her. Well, 
it looked as if Coral trusted him, and she was the 


166 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


girl to stick to her lover and see him out. More¬ 
over her beauty called. 

Maxwell got up and went mechanically to the 
cupboard in which he kept his liquor. He felt in 
his pocket and then stopped and smiled. Coral had 
carried off the key and her doing so was typical. 
He resolved he would go to the road-house and in 
the morning he went. 

When Maxwell arrived, Ellmer polished glasses 
behind the bar. His white shirt-sleeves were neatly 
fastened back and the cloth he used was spotless. 
Maxwell remarked that the row of glasses shone. 
All Ellmer did was properly done; he stood for 
efficiency. 

“Hello! Has the knock you got at the wharf 
laid you off?” he said. 

“I wasn’t wanted for an hour or two. Then it’s 
some time since I could get over and I wanted to 
see Coral,” Maxwell replied. “In fact, I wanted 
to see if we could fix the wedding.” 

“You reckoned you had to wait,” Ellmer re¬ 
marked in a thoughtful voice. 

“That is so, but it looks as if I might wait for 
long. Duff is staying in the North and Caverhill’s 
knocked out.” 

“Caverhill’s a useful man. We want him at the 
settlement. I haven’t seen you since the accident, 
but The Colonist stated when the locomotive was 
right behind Caverhill you jumped across the rails 


HELEN PONDERS 


167 


and pulled him off the track. Well, I knew you'd 
got some gall; but why didn’t you jump before?” 

Maxwell smiled, but his smile was forced, for he 
thought Ellmer studied him. 

'‘For one thing, Caverhill thought he knew a man 
going to the Victoria boat and I tried to see the 
fellow. Then the yard engine was on the next 
track and I imagined the freight locomotive’s bell 
was hers. Anyhow, the important thing is, I did 
jump, and my head’s not better yet. But I mustn’t 
stay long and I want to see Coral.” 

For a moment Ellmer knitted his brows. Then 
he said, “Maybe you’ll find her in the front 
room.” 

Maxwell went to the front room and when he 
opened the door Coral noted his moody look. 

“Does your head hurt much, Harry? Or is Mr. 
Caverhill worse?” she asked. 

“The cut doesn’t bother me and Caverhill is get¬ 
ting better,” Maxwell replied. “We won’t talk 
about the accident yet. You promised to marry me 
and I want the wedding soon.” 

Coral’s color came and went, but she gave Max¬ 
well a steady glance. 

“You reckoned before you married you ought to 
get all the settlement business fixed.” 

“That is so. I expect I was something of a fool. 
The job’s harder than I thought and since Caver¬ 
hill is knocked out I am alone. Then I got a very 


168 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

nasty jolt and my nerve is gone. I want somebody 
to steady me and I know your pluck.” 

Sometimes Coral had doubted Maxwell, but she 
saw he was sincere and she was moved by his sin¬ 
cerity. For all that, she said, “You have your 
sister.” 

“Helen has got her husband, who is badly hurt.” 

“Why, yes. So long as Caverhill’s sick, you 
don’t count for much. That’s proper,” Coral 
agreed. 

“Sometimes the rule’s broken; but you would 
stick to your husband and I want you to stick to 
me. Although I’m not hurt, I’m anxious and my 
partners have left me to carry a big load. Perhaps 
I have not the pluck I thought, because I begin to 
be afraid and the strain gets hard. Anyhow, I need 
your help.” 

“You’re bothered about the settlement? Well, 
I’d surely like you to make good, but in a sense it 
doesn’t count for much,” said Coral and resumed 
in a thoughtful voice: “What about Mrs. Caver- 
hill? Does she want you to marry me?” 

“I don’t know. All she now thinks about is Bob. 
When she knows you she will approve.” 

Coral hesitated and the blood came to her skin. 
“You’re going to risk something, Harry, and maybe 
I risk much. I’m not at all like your sister. Some¬ 
times I doubt if I am the girl for you.” 

“You’re the girl I want,” Maxwell said in a 


HELEN PONDERS 


169 


quiet voice. “I am not like Helen, but this goes 
for nothing. We are flesh and blood and you are 
a better sort than I am. At the beginning I didn’t 
know you; now I know you’re proud and straight 
and stanch. Perhaps you have not much grounds 
to trust me, but if you will risk it, I’ll try not to let 
you down.” 

“Ah,” said Coral, “when you talk like that I 
don’t want to bother about the risk!” She laughed, 
a soft, triumphant laugh, and went to her lover. 
“I’ll marry you when you like.” 


XVIII 


THE CALL 

T>OB’S recovery was long. He had got a dan- 
gerous shock, and although his broken bones 
began to mend, his body was slack and his brain 
was dull. Perhaps his languidness was a natural 
reaction from the strain of anxious thought and 
stubborn labor, but his progress was slow, and for 
the most part, the news Helen allowed him to get 
from the settlement did not help. 

At length, one morning, he occupied a couch by 
the window of his room at the hotel. Maxwell, in 
an easy-chair, studied some documents and smoked 
a cigarette. Bob’s pipe had gone out; the tobacco 
did not taste good. The window commanded the 
Inlet and on the other side white hills shone in the 
sun. A boisterous north wind ruffled the water, 
and although the radiator was not far off, Bob shiv¬ 
ered. On the British Columbian coast, winter is 
not as a rule hard, but sometimes the cold snaps 
are keen. 

Bob imagined the snow was deep at Helensville; 
he had known the frost nearly Arctic for a week 
or two. Watson and his gang were no doubt up 

against it, and Bob thought he was needed, but the 

170 


THE CALL 


171 


doctor declared he must not go. Although Watson 
was a useful man, he was not boss and Bob found 
resignation hard. Then, looking down between the 
tall office blocks, he saw the Maud at the wharf. 
Smoke rolled from her funnel; the firemen were 
getting busy and when steam was up the boat would 
start. Bob resolutely turned his head and looked 
at Maxwell. 

“Your not knowing Alsager on the wharf was 
strange/’ he remarked. 

“Oh, well, he went the other way. Then you see 
I imagined he would have looked me up; he agreed 
to do so.” 

“The fellow has let us down,” said Bob. “Some¬ 
thing has scared him off; you declared he was keen. 
Anyhow, I’ve no use for Thornbank’s proposition. 
I don’t like the man.” 

“Thornbank is greedy, but perhaps you’re preju¬ 
diced. At all events, if we can satisfy him, he’ll 
invest the money we need.” 

“When he’s satisfied, the settlement will be his. 
In a sense, I’m trustee for the folks who bought 
the lots. I’m not going to give the chances they 
ought to get to the Thornbank gang. What about 
the Willaston combine? You stated they might 
negotiate.” 

For a few moments Maxwell was quiet. To 
know Bob refused to deal with Thornbank was 
some relief, because his terms were harder than 


172 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Harry had admitted and his proposition was not 
firm. Moreover, caution was indicated, because 
Bob did not know all Maxwell knew and must not 
be enlightened yet. Maxwell frankly hated the part 
he was forced to play. He wanted to be honest, 
but he had begun to cheat and had got entangled. 

“I like your fastidiousness, but it’s rather an 
obstacle,” he said. “In fact, I expect your stipula¬ 
tions decided Alsager to leave us alone. You will 
have nothing to do with Thornbank, and although 
you may be justified, his help would be useful. 
Then I imagine your fresh stipulations will frighten 
off Willaston. These people don’t use your point 
of view. They’re speculators and their object is 
to get something they can sell for a good price.” 

“We won’t talk about my fastidiousness,” Bob 
rejoined. “What does Willaston want?” 

Maxwell got up and went to the table for a ciga¬ 
rette. So far Willaston had not stated his require¬ 
ments. He had talked, rather vaguely, about his 
buying a factory site if he could get land and power 
cheap, but this was all. The trouble was, now Bob 
was getting better he might send for Willaston. In 
fact, Bob’s stopping at Vancouver was horribly 
awkward; he might soon come to the office. Then 
Maxwell, lighting his cigarette by the window, saw 
the Maud and pulled an envelope from his pocket. 

“Perhaps I had better see Willaston and try to 
get particulars. In the meantime, I don’t know if 


THE CALL 173 

I ought to give you this letter. The hand is like 
your foreman’s, and I thought about letting Helen 
open the envelope. The doctor warned us you must 
not be disturbed.” 

“Shucks!” said Bob, in an angry voice. “I’m 
disturbed about the settlement all the time. Give 
me the note.” 

He tore the envelope and frowned. Watson, as 
he had imagined, was in trouble. Heavy rain and 
snow had embarrassed him; some of his helpers had 
returned to their homesteads and the fresh men he 
had engaged grumbled about the labor and de¬ 
manded higher pay. Then the frost had stopped 
his mixing concrete, and some heavy blocks that 
framed a sluice gate were not properly fixed. Wat¬ 
son imagined the floods the melting ice would re¬ 
lease might carry away the gate, but he could not 
strengthen it until the thaw began. Bob saw he 
was wanted and he resolved to go. 

“I don’t expect Helen for some time,” he said. 
“When she arrives the Maud will be off. Get me 
a cab.” 

Maxwell’s heart beat. He had imagined Wat¬ 
son’s letter was a call for Bob, but he pretended 
surprise. 

“You mustn’t be rash. A nasty sea is running 
and the boat will roll about. The journey from the 
landing is awkward and I expect the snow is deep. 
You have not gone downstairs yet.” 


174 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

“I'm going downstairs in five minutes. Watson 
wants me. If you don’t mean to get a cab, I’ll call 
the bell boy.” 

“Oh, well. You’re an obstinate fellow and I sup¬ 
pose there’s no use in arguing,” said Maxwell with 
a resigned shrug. “For all that, when Helen ar¬ 
rives I will not be on board the Maud ” 

“Don’t argue. Get a cab. Helen can’t make 
you accountable and you can state I went be¬ 
cause I was forced. I’ll send a letter back by 
the boat. The elevator’s coming up. Why don’t 
you start?” 

Maxwell started, but when he reached the hotel 
steps there was not a cab about. Running past 
three or four blocks to a corner, he saw a cab some 
distance off and tried to signal the driver. Then 
Helen came from a shop and Maxwell put down his 
hand, for he did not want to excite his sister’s 
curiosity. It, however, looked as if the man had 
seen his signal, for he drove along the street and 
Maxwell jumped up. At the hotel he ran for the 
elevator, because he imagined if he did not get Bob 
off in two or three minutes, Helen would see he did 
not go. 

Bob was at the rails on the landing and carried 
a small bag. His pose was rather slack and his 
face was pinched, but his skin had a touch of color 
and his eyes twinkled. 

“I feel like I felt when I was a boy and tried to 


THE CALL 175 

cut out school,” he said, and called the page. “No¬ 
body’s coming. Start her off!” 

The lift went down and Maxwell looked about 
the rotunda. Helen had not arrived, but when they 
were on the steps he saw her at the corner of the 
block. Bob looked the other way and Maxwell 
helped him in and told the man to drive up the 
street. The cab started and Bob pulled out his 
watch. 

“I don’t suppose the boat sails just yet, but the 
fellow’s not going to the wharf.” 

“That is so,” Maxwell agreed. “If we had taken 
the shortest line, you’d have met Helen.” 

“Well, perhaps my stealing off is shabby, but it 
looks as if you were my willing accomplice,” Bob 
remarked with a smile. “Anyhow, you see I ought 
to go.” 

Maxwell saw he had not used much caution, but 
he laughed. “I tried to persuade you to stay, but 
I admit your taking control at the dam has some 
advantages. You know if you can stand for the 
effort; I do not.” 

They reached the wharf, and when the Maud's 
smoke melted behind the pines at Beaver Point 
Maxwell rather unwillingly returned to the hotel. 
He must enlighten Helen about Bob’s adventure 
and he did not like his job. 

In the afternoon the wind went West and the air 
got warm, but the sea ran high and at dusk the old 


176 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

steamer brought up in a narrow inlet. Dark pines 
tossed along the beach and the wind in the branches 
was louder than the surf, but Bob slept like a log 
in his heaving bunk. At daybreak he got up, and 
without much effort, walked the deck. For long he 
had not got up for breakfast and at the hotel he 
was satisfied to walk about his room. He reflected 
dryly that to obey one’s doctor is not always the 
proper plan. 

By and by the Maud put to sea and steamed 
slowly across the steep white combers. Spray 
swept her decks and the violent rolling began to 
bother Bob. To hold on behind the pilot-house hurt 
his side, and when he went to the small and very 
dirty cabin to keep on his chair hurt his back. His 
muscles were softer than he had thought and he 
wondered whether he ought not to have remained 
at the hotel. 

At dusk he went to the rails in front of the pilot¬ 
house and looked about. Heavy rain blew across 
the angry sea and the rocks and trees ahead were 
indistinct. A mile or two off, a foaming streak 
marked a savage tide-race, but Bob knew the point 
behind the turmoil sheltered the landing. In half 
an hour the Maud would tie up at the wharf and 
he could start for Helensville. He knew he must 
start as soon as he got off the boat. The stormy 
evening was ominously warm and the snow melted 
fast. The floods would break the ice and hurl the 


THE CALL 177 

floes against the dam. If the sluice went, the bank 
might go. 

The white seas were now on the Maud's quarter. 
Her smoke blew across the foaming belt ahead and 
she steered wildly. In the pilot-house a dark figure 
swung to and fro at the wheel and sometimes the 
captain beat the glass and signaled with his hand. 

“When we hit the race you want to get a good 
hold,” he said to Bob. “If she takes a sheer across 
the tide, she’ll wash off some deck-load. I’d have 
brought up behind the island to wait for slack 
water, but you allowed we must dump the stuff 
to-night.” 

Bob looked at the heavy lumber, stacked high 
above the rail. When the steamer rolled the load 
groaned and strained against the chains. He 
thought they might lose some, but speed was im¬ 
portant. Watson needed lumber and Bob must 
reach the settlement. 

“Let her go,” he said. “The truck is mine and 
I will stand for the risk.” 

The Maud went ahead and presently plunged into 
the race. While her stern was yet in slack water 
her bow was in the tide and the helmsman could 
not bring her round. In the race, the seas were like 
walls, straight from trough to top, until the top 
curled and broke. Then the trough was filled by 
the cataract and another sea leaped from the tur¬ 
moil. For a hundred yards she sheered across the 


178 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


current and the combers crashed on board. The 
stacked lumber melted in the flood that surged about 
the deck, and Bob saw the ends of boards, a derrick 
boom and the forecastle like islands in the foam. 

The spray beat his face and water broke against 
his legs. To hold on was hard, he was weak and 
felt his skin get wet by sweat. A comber leaped 
on board and the steamer rolled as if she would 
roll over, but he saw she was coming round. Her 
bows went up, the water ran off the deck and for 
the most part the load was not gone. The helms¬ 
man was getting control and the seas would soon 
break astern and carry her into the channel. 

Then she plunged, as she had not yet plunged, 
and Bob’s feet went from under him. His muscles 
were slack and his hands slipped from the rail. 
Lurching across the inclined bridge, he struck a 
stanchion, got his arm round the bar and somehow 
held fast. For a few moments he swung to and 
fro, and then the rolling stopped and he knew the 
boat had reached slack water behind the point. 

Bob got down the ladder, but his side hurt and 
he was faint, and when he seized a chair in the 
cabin he began to cough. The coughing shook him, 
and putting his handkerchief to his mouth, he saw 
the linen was stained by blood. He clenched his 
fist and by a savage effort stopped the cough. For 
a minute or two he leaned slackly against the table, 
and then he heard the whistle and went for his bag. 


XIX 


THE BREAKING STRAIN 

TV/TELTING snow covered the little wharf, and 
■*■*■*■ the wet slickers of the men who pulled about 
the ropes reflected the steamer’s lights. In the back¬ 
ground, the hotel windows shone against the woods 
and Bob made for the door. To cross the slippery 
logs hurt, but to find he could walk was some relief. 
When he hit the stanchion he had got a nasty knock. 

The floor of the hotel dining-room was wet and 
torn by spiked boots. A trestle table was pushed 
back to the wall, and the hard wooden chairs by 
the stove were occupied. The occupants were set¬ 
tlers from Helensville and waited for goods they 
expected the Maud to bring. One or two gave Bob 
a nod and others touched their neighbors, but, for 
the most part, he thought their looks antagonistic. 
Although his face was pinched and he moved 
slackly, nobody got up and he pulled a box to the 
stove. 

“Had the ice broken when you started, boys?” 
he inquired. 

“She was cracking, as if she was ready to go,” 

said one. “When she gets away she’ll let down an 

179 


180 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

ugly flood. Your crowd at the dam were hustling 
some.” 

“Then, Watson has kept the gang going?” 

“I guess he was bothered and some laid off,” 
another replied. “Wanted extra pay and allowed 
they didn’t hire up because they liked to get 
drowned.” 

“Our pay’s standard.” 

“The boys claimed the job was not and Helens- 
ville wasn’t up to sample. A number of us think 
that is so,” the first man rejoined, and turning 
from Bob, lighted his pipe. 

For a few minutes Bob was quiet. It looked as 
if the others did not want to talk and he was tired. 
His side hurt and the spot that had struck the 
stanchion was particularly sore. When the locomo¬ 
tive hurled him across the track he had broken two 
or three ribs, and he wondered whether he had hit a 
half-knit bone. When he took a long breath some¬ 
thing pricked and he coughed. All the same, he 
was wanted at the dam and he went to the bar and 
got a drink. 

“What’s the matter with the boys?” he said to 
the landlord. “They’re quiet and some don’t look 
friendly. I guess they know who I am?” 

“They know you; there’s the trouble,” the other 
replied. “These fellows aren’t bushmen; in the 
main, they’re a city crowd, and when they started 
for Helensville they meant to get rich quick. Now 


THE BREAKING STRAIN 181 

the settlement’s going slow, they reckon they got 
stung.” 

“1 think I see,” said Bob, in a rather stern voice. 
“Well, Helensville has got to go ahead, but in the 
meantime I must get there and I doubt if I could 
ride. Do you know who has a wagon?” 

“The trail’s pretty mean and the boys are using 
packhorses. I reckon a wagon wouldn’t get 
through; but Jim White came in with a jumper 
sledge and talked about starting back soon as the 
steamboat gang unloaded his goods.” 

Some time afterward a man arrived and went to 
the bar. 

“I’ve got my truck and don’t want a room,” he 
said. 

“If you’re not all loaded up, Jim, you might take 
Mr. Caverhill,” the landlord remarked. 

“Pleased to meet you,” said the other and gave 
Bob a keen glance. “I’m hauling up a load, and 
where the trail’s extra bad you’ll have tc walk. 
You been sick. Can you make it?” 

“I’ll try,” said Bob. 

“Well, they sure want you at the dam,” White 
remarked dryly and went off. 

Some time afterwards he brought his team to the 
door and indicated a hole between some boxes on 
his sledge. 

“Get on board, Mr. Caverhill. We’ll ride as far’s 


we can. 


182 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Bob got into the hole and White started his team. 
The sledge was a clumsy jumper of the pattern the 
bush-ranchers sometimes use in the fields. Parallel 
wooden runners carried a few cross boards, and 
hooks in front held the traces. As a rule, oxen 
haul a jumper, but White had two good horses. 

After a few minutes th£ lights at the wharf faded 
and the rattle of the Maud's winches was drowned 
by the wind in the pines. Rain beat upon the load, 
steam floated about the shadowy horses, and indis¬ 
tinct branches tossed in the gloom. For a time, 
Bob’s slickers turned the rain and the hollow in the 
load was warm. Although he heard wet snow 
splash about the runners, it looked as if the bottom 
crust were not altogether melted, for the dull beat 
of the horses’ feet indicated that they pushed on. 
Bob imagined he went to sleep, for although he did 
not hear the team stop he presently saw the sledge 
was not moving. In front were vague dark trees 
and somebody stumbled about the trail. Bob got 
up and shivered. 

“Can you light the lantern?” White shouted. 

Bob struck a number of matches, but he got a 
light, and advancing cautiously, held up the lan¬ 
tern. The pale beam touched a slanted bank of 
mud and stones and snow, and he knew the trail 
had gone down the hill. 

“A blamed awkward spot. I guess she’s twenty 
yards across,” said White. “Well, if we mean to 


THE BREAKING STRAIN 183 

get over, we must lighten off. Can you help me 
pack the load to the other side?” 

“I’d sooner pay somebody to go for the goods 
you leave.” 

White shook his head. “We can’t fix it like that. 
The big sack’s sugar and Inglis, the storekeeper, 
wants his groceries. If they’re spoiled by rain, he 
can’t get a fresh lot until the Maud comes up next 
trip.” 

“Very well,” said Bob. “I must make the settle¬ 
ment, but I can’t move the big bags. I’ll help you 
up and try the lighter stuff.” 

They got the sugar on White’s back and he van¬ 
ished in the dark. Bob pulled a cotton flour bag 
from the pile and after a stern effort hove it to his 
shoulders. The bag weighed seventy pounds and 
for a bushman was not a heavy load, but Bob had 
not long since got up from a sick bed. Yet he was 
wanted at the dam, and since the teamster would 
not leave the goods, he must help. 

He could not carry the lantern and the gap in the 
broken trail was very dark. Sharp stones stuck out 
from the snow and sometimes his boots sank in 
muddy soil. A branch he stepped on snapped and 
the effort to keep his balance shook him hard. 
Then he plunged into a hole and the load came near 
to pulling him over. To breathe fast hurt horribly, 
but he set his mouth and labored on. 

A bank of stones he disturbed rolled noisily down 


184 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


the hill, and then he slipped and floundered in soft 
wet snow, until the ground in front got steep and 
he knew he had reached the end of the break. 
Somehow he staggered up the bank and dropped 
the bag. Then, although body and brain shrank 
from the effort, he went back for another. The 
second journey was worse than the first, but he 
brought a bag across and sat down in the snow. 

In the meantime, White had picked up the lan¬ 
tern and urged his frightened horses on to the dan¬ 
gerous slope. The light touched the plunging ani¬ 
mals and their wet skin shone; then the faint beam 
flickered another way and they melted in the rain. 
Bob heard traces rattle and iron shoes clash. White 
shouted savagely, and after a time the misty light 
pierced the gloom and the horses’ heads tossed 
against luminous floating steam. The teamster had 
somehow got across and Bob helped to put up the 
load. 

“You can cool off,” said White. “If we don’t 
hit another piece like this, maybe we’ll make Hel¬ 
ens ville by daybreak.” 

Bob got on the sledge and rested his head against 
the sticky sugar sack. Maxwell had talked about 
Government help for making the road, and Bob 
knew a grading gang had got to work, but so far 
as he could see, the work would not satisfy a sur¬ 
veyor and he wondered who had paid. In the mean- 


THE BREAKING STRAIN 185 

time it was not important. He was exhausted and 
he went to sleep. 

He rather thought he helped White at another 
awkward spot, but he did not know much about it. 
Afterwards the sledge jolted horribly and threw 
him against the bags. The rain had got through 
his slicker, but the cold and the shaking did not 
disturb him much. When at length he was alto¬ 
gether awake, the team had stopped and the light 
was good. It looked as if day had broken some 
time ago, and although rain fell men splashed about 
in the mud and snow between new frame houses. 
Bob saw he had reached Helensville, and getting up 
awkwardly, he started for a building farther along 
the street. 

The frame of the building was large and a sign 
indicated it was a hotel, but only the lower timbers 
were covered by boards. Bob pushed round a glass 
revolving door and went into a big room roofed by 
a tarpaulin. When he pulled a chair to the stove 
Ellmer advanced. His shirt was white and his 
clothes were fastidiously neat. 

“Hello!” said Bob. “You’re going ahead. I 
didn’t know you had arrived.” 

Ellmer gave him a keen glance. “My shingle’s 
up and I’m watching out the carpenters do things 
right, but I go back on the Maud. You look pretty 
sick; I don’t see why Maxwell let you start.” 


186 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“Now I think about it, Maxwell declared I ought 
not to go, but I’m wanted. Have you got some¬ 
thing to brace me up?” 

‘Til fix you,” said Ellmer and guided Bob to a 
chair in another room. “Take a rest for a few 
minutes,” he resumed and went off. 

When he returned he carried a glass of hot liquor 
and a bowl. Bob drained the glass and looked 
doubtfully at the bowl. 

“I don’t know that I want to eat.” 

“You’re going to eat,” said Ellmer. “Get to it; 
I’ll wait.” 

Bob did not want to dispute and he picked up a 
spoon. He did not know what the stuff was, but 
it was hot and he thought he tasted eggs. After 
a few minutes he put back the bowl and pulled out 
his wallet. Ellmer smiled and shook his head. 

“You’re my guest, Mr. Caverhill. I reckon 
you’re for the dam and if you don’t come in at 
noon, I’ll send your lunch.” 

When Bob reached the dam the rain was heavier. 
Mist rolled about the pines, and indistinct dark 
branches tossed. The ice behind the bank worked 
and cracked. Culverts spouted and Bob awkwardly 
made for the main sluice. A' number of wet and 
muddy men tried to shore up the gate with heavy 
beams, but Bob saw they were slack and spiritless. 
He motioned to the nearest. 

“Where is Watson?” 


THE BREAKING STRAIN 187 

“The boss!” somebody shouted, and Watson ran 
along the bank. 

“The ice will soon go,” said Bob. “Can’t you 
open the gate?” 

“I’m scared to open her,” Watson replied. “We 
couldn’t cement in the frame for the frost, but I 
reckoned to heave up the blocks and fix them right 
when the river ran down. Maybe the culverts and 
cut-out will take the flood water; maybe they 
won’t.” 

Bob studied the heaving ice and pulled out his 
watch. “We’ll heave up the blocks now. If our 
luck is good, we ought to put them back, properly 
grouted in good concrete, by dark. Start your 
cement-mixer and rush up all the useful men you’ve 
got.” 

“Looks like taking some chances,” Watson re¬ 
plied in a thoughtful voice. “If the ice breaks 
before we’re through, the shores won’t hold the gate 
and the flood will wash a big hole in the dam. But 
we might fix the blocks. We’ll try it.” 

He blew a whistle. Men came from a shack on 
the river bank and another gang from a trench 
behind the dam. Wet soil stuck to their long boots 
and slickers. They stopped in the rain and looked 
at Bob drearily. 

“You have been up against it, boys, but I guess 
you can stand for another fight,” he said. “If you 
win, you can lie off two days on the company’s 


188 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

time. If you lose, the settlement will get a bad 
set-back and I don’t know when we’ll restart the 
job. Well, we mustn’t lose. I guess we can move 
the gate backing and then cement her up solid be¬ 
fore the flood comes along.” 

“We’ve most had enough,” said one. “If the 
flood hits the dam when half the blocks are out, 
she’ll sure break the gate, and you’ll have no stone 
facing to stand the scour. When she cuts into the 
dirt bank something’s coming to the settlement.” 

“That is so,” said Bob. “I expect some houses 
will go down river. But we’re going to make all 
fast before the flood does hit us. Let’s start!” 

They got to work; for the most part, rather sul¬ 
lenly. A number had for long labored in the snow 
and mud and others doubted if all went well for 
the settlement. Bob admitted they had grounds to 
doubt, but he must give them confidence and he 
wondered whether he could hold on until dark. 

Logs and heavy beams were wedged against the 
gate, and then a gang went to the derrick. The 
windlass groaned, the long boom swung, and the 
ponderous blocks of the concrete facing were slowly 
lifted out. Bob, however, was not satisfied to 
superintend. Sometimes he helped at the windlass 
handles and sometimes at the guys that controlled 
the traveling boom. The blocks were muddy, 
chains slipped and handspikes broke, but speed was 
indicated, for the ice crackled with a noise like rifle 


THE BREAKING STRAIN 189 

shots and broke along the dam as the water rose. 
This was all, however, and Bob began to hope they 
might finish the job before the flood came down. 

At noon he went to the engine-house and ate a 
little of the food Ellmer sent. The shack was 
warm and his clothes began to steam; the engine 
had not stopped and its measured throb was sooth¬ 
ing. Wheels rolled and he heard the cement splash 
in the mixing tank. Bob tried the cement and saw 
it would harden fast. In two or three hours it 
would hold the properly bedded blocks and the 
frame would stand. They might perhaps open the 
gate. 

Bob did not want to get up and face the rain and 
cold. His head ached, his side hurt, and he was 
horribly tired and slack. All the same, he must 
get up. If the dam went, it would be long before 
a factory was built; moreover, the flood might 
sweep Helensville. He was disturbed about the 
settlement. Somehow he did not trust Maxwell, 
but he was not an accountant and only a few days 
since had got out of bed. Well, he was a workman 
and the boys would follow him. Although to get 
up cost him much, he went back to the dam. 

When they lowered the last few stones the light 
was going. The wind was strong and the flame of 
the roaring blast-lamp slanted. Dazzling reflections 
played about the dam and faded in the rain. The 
derrick swung a massive block across the ice and 


190 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

Bob joined the men at the windlass. The chain 
tackle groaned, the gear-wheels clanked, and he 
heard the big wooden tripod strain. By and by 
the block began to come down and the clank got 
sharp. 

“She’s getting away,” said Watson. “Snub her 
with the brake. Let the pawls engage.” 

A man pulled a lever, but the noisy gears did not 
stop and the chain went out. The suspended block 
had not yet reached the proper spot, and if it fell, 
would go through the ice. 

“Pawl-rods jammed!” said the man at the lever. 
“Looks like some grit was underneath.” 

Bob seized the end of the windlass handle. Two 
men were braced against the bar and at the other 
side, across the chain barrel, bent dark figures 
strained. The men had hoisted the heavy stone, but 
they had reckoned on the pawls’ carrying the load 
when they swung it to its place. Now they were 
exhausted by the effort, the pawls would not engage 
and they must bear the weight. The handles had 
begun to turn the other way, but if, for a few mo¬ 
ments, the chain did not run fast, they might yet 
drop the block where it ought to go. If they weak¬ 
ened, the spinning handles would break their bones. 

“Stiffen up!” Bob shouted hoarsely. “You have 
got to hold her!” 

Gasping and straining, they clung to the bars and 
the long boom moved. The stone was not above 


THE BREAKING STRAIN 191 

the ice; it began to cross the dam, and if it traveled 
a few yards farther, it would reach its socket. For 
all that, the strain was horrible. The exhausted 
men braced their legs and drove their boots into 
the mud. Their hands slipped on the wet iron, and 
the bars they tried to stop went slowly round. 
Bob fought for breath and coughed. His chest 
hurt, as if somebody stabbed him, and he imagined 
blood was in his mouth. 

“Ease up!” somebody shouted. “We can swing 
her home!” 

Bob let go the handle and dropped in the mud. 
A man trod on him, but he did not know, and when 
the others stepped back from the windlass one said, 
“Go for a lantern! The boss is knocked out!” 

They got a light and crowded round. Bob’s wet 
face was white and pinched; his eyes were shut and 
a red stain crossed his chin. Then Watson pushed 
back the group. 

“Run to the saloon for liquor. Fetch some ce¬ 
ment bags and two pike-poles.” 

A 1 man brought the poles and pushed the ends 
through the bags. Others lifted Bob to the rude 
stretcher and they started down the bank. Ellmer 
met them in front of the hotel, and taking the lan¬ 
tern, thoughtfully studied Bob. 

“He’s very sick. Put him in my room. I’ve got 
to start for town and maybe I can send up Mrs. 
Caverhill and a doctor on board a gasoline launch.” 


192 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


They carried Bob into the hotel, pulled off his 
wet clothes and put him to bed. Some time after¬ 
wards, when the others were gone, he opened his 
eyes and looked about. 

“Hello, Ellmer!” he said languidly. “Do you 
know if Watson fixed the block?” 

“He fixed the lot, but you’re not to bother,” 
Ellmer replied. 

Bob turned his head. The tarpaulin roof flapped 
and rain beat the thin walls, but there was another 
noise, like the roar of an angry fall. 

“Do you hear water?” he asked in a faint, 
anxious voice. 

“Sure,” said Ellmer soothingly. “Watson has 
opened the sluice and is running down the dam. So 
far, nothing’s broke and he thinks the job will 
stand.” 

“Then I won’t bother,” Bob remarked and shut 
his eyes. 


XX 


THE RECKONING 

COON after the Maud arrived in Vancouver, 
^ Helen and a doctor started for the North on 
board a gasoline launch, and although the boat was 
swept by angry seas, reached the steamboat land¬ 
ing. The doctor declared Bob had broken again a 
bone that was not properly knit and the muscular 
effort he used at the dam accounted for the injury 
the sharp end had done. Moreover, when he 
reached the dam he was ill and exhausted and he 
must pay for his rashness. He imagined Bob 
would not for a long time resume his work, but by 
and by Helen might perhaps take him to California. 

Sometimes when all was quiet and Helen watched 
by her husband’s bed she speculated about his start¬ 
ing for the settlement. Harry ought not to have 
given Bob the foreman’s letter and he ought not to 
have let him go. He declared he had tried to dis¬ 
suade Bob and Helen thought it possible. She knew 
Bob’s obstinacy, but she doubted if he could have 
got on board the steamer unless Harry helped. In 
fact, it looked as if Harry were willing for Bob 
to go. 


193 


194 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

In the meantime, however, she must concentrate 
on nursing Bob, who began to make some progress. 
At length the doctor returned and stated they might 
go South. Helen thought the strange thing was, 
Bob agreed and was willing to loaf about a tourists* 
hotel in California. Bob was very slack and lan¬ 
guid. It looked as if he were satisfied to leave the 
settlement alone and Helen sensed a puzzling 
reserve. 

Bob’s slackness and philosophical calm disturbed 
her. Although at the beginning she thought she 
had not wanted his love, when the locomotive 
struck him down she had got enlightenment. The 
trouble was, she had forced Bob to indulge her, 
and now she thought him resigned. Then she was 
conscious that something, so to speak, stood in the 
way of a full and generous understanding. 

Helen mused about it unhappily and sometimes 
thought Maxwell the obstacle. Harry and Bob 
were temperamentally antagonistic and the settle¬ 
ment scheme had perhaps exaggerated their antago¬ 
nism. Harry’s rules were not Bob’s rules; she 
thought Bob’s better, but she must not disown her 
brother to whom she owed much. Besides, her 
pride was not yet conquered; after all, in a sense, 
she was Harry’s sort. At length, when Bob de¬ 
clared he must get to work, to start for Vancouver 
was some relief. 

At Vancouver they went to Duff’s house. Duff 


THE RECKONING 


195 


had returned from the North and in the evening 
took Bob to his smoking-room. Since his arrival, 
Helen and Mrs. Duff had not left Bob alone with 
his host, but when supper was over the men knew 
they must talk. For all that, Bob thought Duff was 
not keen to start. Duff had lost some flesh and his 
skin was brown. His holiday had braced him, but 
his glance was nervous and he was obviously dis¬ 
turbed. Bob was tired and, although he got 
stronger, his languidness was not gone. 

“To see you getting about again is some com¬ 
fort,” Duff remarked and lighted his pipe. “When 
your letter arrived I felt as if I’d thrown off a 
load.” 

“To feel I can get about is comforting,” Bob 
agreed with a smile. “All the same, you haven’t 
carried your load very far. You stopped in the 
North longer than we reckoned; but although Harry 
stated you went to examine a mineral claim I don’t 
know much about your exploits.” 

“Oh, well. I suppose I must put you wise,” said 
Duff, and Bob imagined his willingness to talk 
about his adventures indicated that he would 
sooner put off talking about Helensville. 

“On the panhandle coast it rained most all the 
time and we went up the Bering Sea on board a 
summer tourist boat,” Duff resumed. “We got off 
at Seward, and although Seward is not a remark¬ 
ably attractive spot, it did not rain and there are 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


196 

paying deep-lode mines in the neighborhood. Then 
I met up with an American engineer. A mining 
company at Fairbanks had turned him down; he 
was keen about prospecting and I thought he knew 
his job. Anyhow, he got me interested, and when 
the boat came back Mrs. Duff agreed to wait for 
me at Seward and Marshall and I started for the 
wilds. But I expect you know something about 
this?” 

Bob laughed. “I didn’t imagine you’d get bitten 
by the gold bug. As a rule, you use some caution, 
Tom. Anyhow, I don’t expect you struck pay¬ 
dirt i” 

“Marshall was not playing me. The man is 
straight and he staked as much as I staked. I think 
it was all his wad, for the excursion cost us pretty 
high. We hired a gasoline boat and started across 
Kotzebue Sound, made a food cache where we 
landed and sent off the boat. She was to come back 
for us and, if we were not at the beach, dump fresh 
supplies and return after a fixed time. When she’d 
gone we loaded up two Aleut packers and pushed 
inland.” 

“Pretty rough country, was it not?” said Bob. 

“Our line was across soft muskeg, willow belts, 
and winding creeks, and the mosquitoes were fierce. 
I expect one could not push across for some time 
after the surface thaw, but we went in the fall and 
Marshall knew the ground. Although we were 


THE RECKONING 197 

longer than we reckoned, he hit the spot for which 
he steered.” 

“Atid then you found the gold would not pay 
for washing?” 

“The gold is not wash-gold,” Duff rejoined 
quietly. “Marshall struck the reef where he calcu¬ 
lated, and although I’m not a miner, I saw the indi¬ 
cations were good. In fact, I agreed to share the 
cost of experimental development, and perhaps I 
was lucky because I ran the risk. I expect soon to 
have some use for all the money I can get-” 

Duff stopped and his look was moody. He hesi¬ 
tated, knocked out his pipe, and went on: “In 
Alaska to strike gold is not hard; to develop a reef 
claim is another thing. In the tundra and muskeg 
belt, transport’s most impossible, and in order to 
pay for mining the ore must carry heavy metal. I 
don’t know about ours yet, and in the meantime 
we’ll let it go. 

“The lode outcropped and we had powder, and 
Marshall wanted to prove the vein. For two or 
three weeks, it was something like Indian summer, 
although the nights were cold. I was keen and per¬ 
haps we stayed longer than we ought, for winter 
was on us before we knew. One night heavy snow 
fell and the tent poles broke. In the blizzard we 
couldn’t hoist the canvas and at daybreak we started 
for the coast. I can’t tell you much about the 
journey; I hate to remember it. 



198 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“Speed was important. We had given the boat’s 
skipper a date and the beach was open. If it blew 
hard or ice packed on the coast, he couldn’t stop; 
besides, our food was running out. Sometimes a 
blizzard held us up and the snow was deep. My 
wet boots galled my feet, and although we threw 
away the prospecting tools, we carried an awkward 
load. It looked as if we couldn’t keep our date 
with the captain, but we shoved on as fast as pos¬ 
sible. 

“We made the beach one evening when we were 
nearly played out and numbed by cold. The snow 
went down to the tide-line, but in places rocks 
pushed through. The water was dark, and the boat 
was gone. Perhaps the blizzards had scared the 
captain, but I like to know he’s not yet paid. Mar¬ 
shall reckoned we must stay for the winter; I reck¬ 
oned we might stay for good-” 

Duff paused and for a few moments looked 
straight in front. Bob thought he saw the desolate 
white wilds and the lead-colored sea beat the frozen 
beach. But Duff was not the man to brood over 
past trouble, and Bob wondered whether he had 
other grounds for his strange, fixed look. 

“Well,” he resumed, “the food cache was not 
broken, and we had a good tent and an alcohol 
stove. Somehow we stood for the snow and frost, 
and after a time a steam whaler, running from a 
gale, brought up behind the cape. The captain took 



THE RECKONING 


199 


us on board, but our luck was not very good. The 
auxiliary engine made trouble and when we cleared 
the Aleutians we ran up against a Pacific gale. She 
would not face the sea, and for days she drifted 
about, hove-to, in blinding fog. Until we saw Van¬ 
couver Island, the wind was ahead and it was long 
before we landed at Portland, Oregon. In the 
summer Marshall goes back to the lode. I don’t 
yet know if I will go-” 

Bob looked up with some surprise, but for a few 
moments Duff occupied himself with his pipe. 
Then he said: 

“I think that’s all and I have accounted for my 
remaining in the North. I felt I must account for 
it, because had I got back to the office when I cal¬ 
culated, I might perhaps have put things straight.” 

“Ah,” said Bob, “I imagined something bothered 
you! You imply we must expect trouble about the 
settlement ?” 

“Trouble is surely coming to us. I am scared, 
Bob.” 

“Then Maxwell has plunged into some fresh ex¬ 
travagance when we were both away?” 

“The extravagance is not fresh,” said Duff. 
“When I got back and saw the business Harry 
handled, I was rattled. He’d sold ’most all the 
keystone block and had got a very large sum, but 
the money was not at the bank. He’d graded roads, 
feasted investors, and bribed important folks. In 



200 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

fact, he’d stopped at nothing to boom the settle¬ 
ment. So far as I could see, the house was awk¬ 
wardly entangled, but when I got after Maxwell 
he smiled. Perhaps I was slack and trustful, for 
I let him put me off. He declared all went right; 
you know Harry’s persuasive powers, but when he 
started for Victoria, a few days ago, I got an ac¬ 
countant. I don’t yet know all, but our liabilities 
scare me and the money’s gone. The factory’s not 
started and the Helensville folk claim the scheme 
was a frame-up.” 

Bob struck a match and gave Duff a light. He 
did so for an experiment and was relieved to find 
he could guide the match. Yet he had got a nasty 
knock. 

“To some extent, I think your customers are jus¬ 
tified,” he said. “From the beginning Harry’s plan 
was bluff. Unless the factory was built, he had 
nothing to sell; he persuaded folks to pay for goods 
he could not put up.” 

“Not altogether. I’ve known a reckless bluff 
make good. In fact, I admit, for a few days I 
was near leaving Harry alone. I thought he might 
put the job across and save us. If you can satisfy 
people a new settlement will go ahead, it does go 
ahead.” 

Bob smiled, a rather dreary smile. “I have heard 
something like that before, but the argument’s not 
sound. You’re a real estate man and I guess you 


THE RECKONING 


201 

know some settlements are started for the money 
the settlers bring and spend. When the money’s 
gone the settlement goes broke-” 

He mused for a few moments. He was sorry 
for Duff and saw it was important he had not left 
Maxwell alone. In Duff’s occupation scruples were 
sometimes a drawback, but the house’s customers 
had grounds to call Duff “Honest Tom.” Then 
Duff turned to Bob and his face got red. 

“I’m treasurer and accountable. I’ve let you and 
others down; there’s where the thing hurts worst. 
People trusted Duff’s and, until Maxwell joined 
me, nobody had a just pick on us. Well, I’ve got 
the house I built, and perhaps my share in Mar¬ 
shall’s lode is worth something. The lot won’t go 
far, but so far as it does go, all’s my creditors!” 

Bob had tried for calm, but Duff’s distress moved 
him and his anger against Maxwell was hot. 

“We’re not broke yet. My wad’s not gone and 

I’ve got the ranch: But where is the d-thief 

who cheated us both?” 

“Harry’s at Victoria. He stated he might hire a 
gasoline boat and cross the strait to the landing. 
Maybe he reckons to bluff the settlers, but I doubt. 
Last mail I got some savage letters. Since Duff’s 
put up their shingle nobody sent us letters like that 
before.” 

“If our customers are dissatisfied, we’ll go to the 
settlement,” said Bob in a stem voice. “Since we 




202 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


let Maxwell fool us, we must meet the bill. All’s 
not lost and when I have seen your accountant we 
may find a plan. But I don’t want Mrs. Duff to 
talk to Helen yet. Helen trusts her brother and 
I’m afraid she’s going to get hurt-” 

He stopped, for he heard somebody in the pas¬ 
sage. Mrs. Duff opened the door and Helen 
came in. 

“You have left us alone for some time and Bob 
is tired,” she said. “You can talk about business 
in the morning.” 

“Do you know we did talk about business ?” Duff 
inquired. 

“I imagine it’s very possible, since the settlement 
occupies all Bob’s thought,” said Helen, with a 
rather dreary smile. 

Mrs. Duff looked at her husband, and Bob 
thought she knew much, but had not given Helen 
her confidence. Duff put up his pipe. 

“Perhaps I have bored Bob and he is tired. I 
myself am not very fresh and feel I want a holiday. 
I think we’ll all start for Helensville; the Maud 
goes in a day or two.” 

“Oh, well,” said Helen. “I had hoped Bob 
would wait a little before he got to work, but if 
he’s resolved to go, there’s no use in talking.” 



XXI 


Helen’s enlightenment 

'T V HE evening was dark and rain fell. The 
street was uneven, the rocking car plunged 
into holes and water splashed about the wheels. 
The driver frankly swore. To steer a big automo¬ 
bile over the trail from the landing was a strenuous 
job and he was tired. 

Helen, balancing against the jolts, looked about 
with keen curiosity and some pride. The settle¬ 
ment was not the settlement she had left. The 
stumps were gone and rows of wooden houses bor¬ 
dered Main Street. She admitted that the build¬ 
ings the headlamps picked out were not beautiful, 
but behind the ship-lap walls domestic fires burned. 
Where Bob’s steers had wandered in the bush, men 
and women lived. Then, although the road to the 
landing was not good, to make a road over which 
an automobile could travel was something of an 
exploit. 

It was as if Harry had stretched a magician’s 
wand across the woods and Helensville had sprung 
up. In a sense, the thing was magical. He called, 
and men who had not known him before came from 

mines and stores and offices and got to work. The 

203 


204 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


town, so to speak, grew in the night, and now it 
was there; rather ugly, perhaps, but substantial. 
Helensville would stand and one did not know 
where its growth would stop. Well, Helen had 
known Harry’s talent, and she hoped Bob at length 
was satisfied. 

Bob, however, was ominously quiet. He noted 
that for the most part the houses were dark, and 
a pool-room the car rolled by was empty. At one 
spot behind the town bright reflections trembled 
across the trees. Bob touched Dufif. 

“A blast-lamp,” he said meaningly. “Some¬ 
thing’s doing!” 

The car stopped in front of Ellmer’s hotel. The 
building was finished and its top floor was high 
above the small frame houses. A' wide veranda 
with railing and posts went along the front. Lights 
shone from the windows, but when the party got 
down Bob noticed that nobody was about. His 
plan was to stop at the hotel and go to the ranch 
in the morning. Ellmer met him in the passage. 
His mouth was tight and he gave Bob a keen 
glance. 

“We want you, Mr. Caverhill.” 

“I imagined something like that,” said Bob. 
“Where are the boys?” 

“They’ve got a meeting; I understand Grey takes 
the floor,” Ellmer replied, and stopping, looked at 
Helen. 


HELEN’S ENLIGHTENMENT 205 


“Oh, well,” said Bob in a careless voice, “I ex¬ 
pect supper’s ready and the meal we got at the land¬ 
ing wasn’t good.” 

A few minutes afterward a smart waitress served 
supper in the big dining-room. Bob and Duff knew 
her doing so indicated that Ellmer’s control was 
firm, for at a bush settlement hotel one does not get 
supper after the fixed time. Ellmer stopped, as if 
to see all was properly served, and presently turned 
to Duff. 

“I s’pose you calculated to meet your partner?” 

“I did not,” said Duff rather sharply. “Maxwell 
was at Victoria; he didn’t know if he’d get across.” 

“He came on board a boat the new company’s 
running along the coast.” 

“Then, Harry is somewhere about?” said Helen. 

“Sure. He went to the boys’ meeting,” Ellmer 
replied and turned to Bob. “I didn’t want him 
to go.” 

Helen weighed his remark and was puzzled. The 
landlord’s look was rather grim. His voice was 
sharp and she thought him somehow truculent, but 
he called the waitress. 

“Where’s Coral?” 

“I don’t know. She was around not long ago,” 
said the girl, and Ellmer studied the table. 

“Well, I think you have got all you want,” he 
remarked and went off. 

Supper was not a cheerful function. Nobody 


206 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

talked much, and although Helen was frankly tired, 
she did not think fatigue accounted for the others’ 
moodiness. She herself rather wanted to talk. For 
a bush hotel the dining-room was spacious; the food 
was good and properly served. When she drove 
along the street she had noted two or three smart 
new stores. Helensville obviously went ahead and, 
in a sense, the settlement’s progress was Harry’s 
triumph. Bob ought to admit it, but he was sternly 
quiet and his quietness annoyed her. 

By and by a noise began in the street. People 
shouted and Helen thought a number beat tin pans. 
Then the notes of a cornet, badly played, pierced 
the swelling turmoil, and Duff looked at Bob, who 
jumped up and went to the door. When the others 
reached the veranda the noise indicated that a crowd 
pushed along the street. For the most part, the 
street was dark, but at some spots a beam from a 
window touched rows of indistinct figures. One 
heard steps in the mud, the cornet shrieked cracked 
notes, and the tin pans rattled. For a minute or 
two it looked as if the people brought somebody 
in triumph to the hotel; and then Helen knew the 
shouts and noise were derisive. 

Near the hotel a big lamp burned in a grocery 
window, and at length Helen saw the crowd. A 
man and a woman went in front and their advance 
was obviously not a triumphant march. The 
woman’s hat was battered, as if the top were torn 


HELEN’S ENLIGHTENMENT 207 

from the brim; the man’s was gone. He went un¬ 
steadily, and when he tried to stop, the woman 
pulled him forward. She held his arm and some¬ 
times he stumbled against her. The others jeered. 
It looked as if they might not have let the man go 
but for his companion. 

At the bottom of the hotel steps he stopped and 
the light touched his face. His black hair was wet 
and untidy and a bruise marked his forehead. 
Helen seized the veranda rails for support. She 
saw the man was Maxwell and he was not sober. 

Maxwell turned and faced the jeering crowd. 

“You’re a noble lot and your instincts are a 
sheep’s. Where one jumps you all jump and your 
leader’s the noisiest fool in the crowd. You’d fol¬ 
low him over a cliff; but you can’t be led along 
the proper road.” 

“Cut it out! We know you; you make us tired!” 
one replied, and the woman pushed Maxwell. 

“Quit talking! You can’t fool the boys again. 
Get up!” she said; and when Maxwell, stumbling 
awkwardly, went up the steps she leaned against a 
post. 

Her face was white, but her glance was hard and 
scornful. Helen saw it was the girl Harry had 
brought to her table at the hotel in the woods. 
The crowd hesitated at the bottom of the steps, and 
Coral, letting go the post, stood firm and straight. 

“Better go home, boys, and weigh up to-night’s 


208 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


job,” she said. “Maybe, before you fixed your 
meeting, you had a chance to make good at Helens- 
ville. Now you have not. You turned down the 
man who might have seen you out.” 

Maxwell started to go down the steps. “Lemme 
talk! These people haven’t much use for your argu¬ 
ments-” 

“You go right in!” said Coral firmly. “When 
you get tanking, you talk too much.” 

Somebody shouted humorou^ approval. Coral 
pushed Maxwell back and turned. 

“I don’t hear your boss. Looks as if he doesn’t 
wear a bell, but maybe he’s modest,” she said, and 
a man pushed through the crowd. 

“I’m where I’m wanted, but you take your man 
away. You have grit and for your sake we let the 
wastrel who’s got our money go. Well, I guess 
we’re a trustful lot, but we don’t fall for him an¬ 
other time.” 

Bob motioned to Coral and went to the railing. 

“Is it you, Somers? Do you claim when you 
invested you got a crooked deal?” 

“I surely claim it, Bob. I thought I knew you 
and you reckoned to push the settlement ahead. 
You got my money, but perhaps I’m lucky I got 
my transfer recorded at the land office, because 
your partner sold another man my block.” 

“Ah,” said Bob quietly, and resumed: “Do you 
know about another deal like that?” 



HELEN’S ENLIGHTENMENT 209 


“I know about a number; but you want to talk 
to Grey. Maxwell broke him and when he’s 
through at the meeting-” 

“Then, the meeting’s not over?” 

“Not yet. Maxwell tried to bluff us. His nerve 
is pretty good, but the boys had had enough and 
some wanted to ride him round the settlement on 
a rail. Anyhow my notion is, you better ship him 
out before Grey’s gang come along.” 

“Thanks,” said Bob. “In the meantime, I’d 
sooner you took your crowd off. When the boys 
are cool I’ll talk to all who claim they got stung; 
but nobody’s now coming up these steps.” 

“You can bet on that,” said Ellmer grimly. 

The crowd growled and pushed about. It looked 
as if some were unwilling to let Maxwell go, but 
for the most part Bob imagined the men were not 
keen to force an entrance into the house. More¬ 
over, the landlord and his barkeeper resolutely com¬ 
manded the top of the steps. After a few moments 
the crowd began to melt and Bob pushed Maxwell 
into the dining-room. The others followed and 
Ellmer locked the door. 

Maxwell leaned against the wall and smiled. His 
smile was ironical, and although his legs were un¬ 
steady, it looked as if liquor had not altogether 
bemused his brain. Coral held his arm and the 
glance she gave the others was defiant. Helen’s 
color was high and her eyes sparkled. 



210 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

“Are you not going to present your companion, 
Harry ?” 

“I imagine I did something like that before, and 
I doubt if you forget,” Maxwell replied. “Since 
Coral’s your sister-in-law you ought to be polite. 
We were married when you and Bob went South.” 

For a moment Helen turned her head. Then she 
looked up and studied Coral with haughty calm. 

“Now I think about it, I did meet you. You 
talked about a road-house. I suppose you are the 
landlord’s daughter?” 

“That is so,” Ellmer remarked dryly. “My 
trouble is, Coral’s your brother’s wife. Anyhow, 
it’s got to be reckoned on.” 

Helen went to a bench. Her humiliation was 
keen and she had borne the fatigue of an awkward 
journey. 

“Ellmer’s a logical fellow,” Maxwell observed. 
“When Coral married me I think my luck was 
better than hers, but we were married and p’raps 
our relations ought to stand by us. The Helens- 
ville people don’t think I ought to stay, and when 
the meeting’s over I expect another lot will look 
me up. What are we going to do about it?” 

“You’re going to pull out,” said Ellmer and 
turned to Bob. “Somers didn’t want trouble and 
the boys he brought along are a pretty good lot, but 
Grey’s savage and Wilmot’s poison mean. I reckon 
something’s coming to us when their gang arrives. 


HELEN’S ENLIGHTENMENT 211 

Anyhow, I don’t want my house wrecked and they’d 
get after Maxwell if he went to the ranch.” 

“Maxwell’s going on board the Maud ” said Bob. 
“Can you trust the fellow who drove the car?” 

“You’ve got it! I can trust all my lot,” Ellmer 
agreed. “We’ll start the car for the ranch, and 
then Jake will take the dam road and hit the land¬ 
ing trail, back of the settlement-” He turned 

to Coral. “Harry’s got to go.” 

“I’m going,” said Coral, and facing Helen gave 
her a strange smile. “Looks as if you are willing 
to turn down your brother, but I stick to my hus¬ 
band. Maybe he’s not all I reckoned, but he’s all 
I’ve got and I mean to see him out.” 

Helen said nothing. Coral’s stanchness moved 
her and she was ashamed. Her husband was finer 
than she had thought, but, in a sense, she had not 
stuck to Bob. Then Maxwell took Coral’s hand 
and awkwardly braced up. 

“Your pluck’s splendid and perhaps I’ll yet make 
good. Had my partners played up like you, I’d 
have made them rich, but Bob’s fastidiousness beat 
me and Duff’s afraid.” 

“I’m surely afraid and I have some grounds,” 
Duff rejoined. “You couldn’t put across your 
bluff and Bob and I must pay.” 

Maxwell laughed. “Your weak nerve broke you, 
and I was broke for a ridiculously small sum I 
couldn’t get when you came back. If you had 



212 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

stayed away another six months, I’d have carried 
Helensville where I meant, but I couldn’t carry Bob 
and you. However, if you think I ought, I’ll stay 
and meet the bill.” 

“Quit talking. You’re not going to stay,” said 
Coral firmly and Maxwell with rather uneven steps 
crossed the floor. 

For a moment or two Helen hesitated. Then 
she got up, and going after the others, kissed Max¬ 
well. Coral pushed him to a door opening to the 
back of the house and Ellmer went out behind them. 
When he came back a car engine began to throb. 

“Maybe they’ll make it. The Maud goes out at 
daybreak,” he remarked. 

Wheels rolled in loose gravel and the rattling 
throb sank to a steady note. Then the noise began 
to die away and rain beat the windows. 


XXII 


THE FIGHT FOR THE STEPS 

'Tj'LLMER pulled out his watch and went to the 

' door. After a few moments he came back and 
sat down by the stove. 

“Nothing’s doing yet,” he said. “The night’s 
quiet and the rain’s stopped, but if the boys heard 
the car, they’d reckon Caverhill was going to the 
ranch. All the same, the new road’s soft with the 
wet and Jake can’t hit up the pace until he’s across 
the divide.” 

Bob nodded. The new road was a bank of soil 
and gravel, loosely thrown up by a horse scoop. If 
the settlers found out Maxwell had started for the 
landing and resolved to bring him back, Bob rather 
thought a few men on horseback, pushing across 
the old trail, could reach the high ground before 
the car. 

“I don’t see how Maxwell bit these fellows,” 
Ellmer resumed. “When your transfer’s recorded 
at the land office, your title is good.” 

“That is so,” Duff agreed, with a rather dreary 
smile. “All the same, Harry had some grounds 
for stating real estate speculators are like sheep; if 
one imagines he has got a snap, all rush off to buy. 

When the boom started Maxwell took the money 

213 


214 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

and gave acknowledgments. For example, he’d sell 
you an option, for which you paid some money 
down, and you were entitled to complete the deal 
:n a time agreed. He’d give another fellow an en¬ 
gagement to transfer a Main Street frontage when 
the surveyors had properly measured up the 
ground. So long as people imagined the town 
went ahead, you could sell the agreement.” 

“Do you imply Maxwell sold one customer lots 
another had bought?” 

“We have three claims for a particularly useful 
corner lot,” said Duff dryly. 

Helen said nothing. She dared not look at Bob. 
Where she ought to trust her husband she had sup¬ 
ported her brother, whom she now knew for a 
cheat. Moreover, Harry had married the road¬ 
house girl. Perhaps she was ridiculous, but she 
admitted his marrying Coral hurt almost as much 
as his dishonesty. Yet Coral was stanch to her 
husband, and she herself was not. In the meantime, 
Bob’s quietness disturbed her. 

By and by Ellmer turned his head. “Looks as if 
the Wilmot gang was coming along. Old man 
Inglis is a magistrate, but he’s not in town, and 
Grant, the constable, is at the landing.” 

He went to the door and the others heard the 
beat of feet in the mud. The men did not shout 
and their silence was ominous. Ellmer turned to 
Bob. 


THE FIGHT FOR THE STEPS 215 


“I doubt if Harry has made the high ground yet. 
If the boys got horses, they might cut his track.” 

“Since they’re coming here, I imagine they don’t 
know he has lit out,” said Bob. “I rather think 
we’ll state he’s gone.” 

Helen gave Bob a puzzled glance. “You don’t 
mean to help the ruffians?” 

“Not at all,” said Bob, with a smile. “We mean 
to keep the fellows occupied as long as possible. 
Sometimes when you’re willing for folks to doubt 
you, to state the truth is the proper plan. But you 
and Mrs. Duff must steal off and make for the 
Inglis store.” 

Helen’s eyes sparkled and her color rose. 

“I will not steal off. After all, Harry is my 
brother, and when he went to the meeting Coral 
was not afraid-” 

Bob looked at Mrs. Duff. Her color was gone, 
but her look indicated that she meant to stay, and 
he shrugged resignedly. 

“You can’t force the ladies out and you can’t go 
to the grocery,” Ellmer remarked and called his 
barkeeper. 

“Get a club, Pete. In this country they don’t 
stand for gun-play, but the boys are not coming 

• yy 

in. 

The barkeeper nodded and picked up a stove iron. 
He was a dark-skinned, muscular fellow, and had 
served drinks at turbulent mining camps and kept 



216 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


a pool-room where loggers from the woods some¬ 
times disputed about their bets. Ellmer balanced 
another iron and then turned to Mrs. Duff. His 
look was cool and commanding. 

“We have no use for you and Mrs. Caverhill. 
Get into the back room. Get there now!” 

Helen glanced at Bob and saw he would support 
the landlord. His brows were knit and his mouth 
was firm. She thought if he were forced to fight, 
for him to do so would be some relief. Then Mrs. 
Duff touched her and they went off. 

“I think I'll break a chair,” said Bob and pulled 
the rails and seat from the curved hardwood bar. 
He threw the other leg to Duff and then indicated 
the bench along the wall. “We’ll jam the thing 
against the posts on the steps.” 

They dragged out the heavy bench and when they 
had fixed it across the stairs the crowd stopped at 
the bottom. The light from the veranda windows 
was good and Bob studied the men. Their look 
was grim and he thought their mood savage. Two 
or three in front carried crowbars and Bob saw 
sticks and shovels. A sharp-edged shovel is a dan¬ 
gerous tool. The men were the men who had suf¬ 
fered most for trusting Maxwell, and Bob knew he 
could not persuade them to go away. In the mean¬ 
time, however, he did not want them to go. The 
mud and broken corduroy that might stop Max¬ 
well’s car would not stop a bold horseman. 


THE FIGHT FOR THE STEPS 217 

“You can’t come up, boys,” said Ellmer. “What 
do you want?” 

“We want Maxwell,” one replied, and Grey ad¬ 
vanced. 

“Is Caverhill about?” 

Bob went to the railing. “I like to be where I’m 
wanted. What’s the trouble?” 

“If you don’t know, we’ll put you wise. When 
we bought our lots Maxwell stated a pulp-factory 
and a saw-mill were going to be built. The plans 
were drawn, all was fixed, and he reckoned the set¬ 
tlement was going right ahead. Well, you got our 
money. Where’s your factory?” 

“We have got a saw-mill of a sort,” said Bob. 

“Oh, shucks! She wouldn’t cut a load of boards 
in a week,” said a man who pushed Grey back. 
“You got to stand for your partner’s engagements, 
Caverhill, but before we talk about that we’re going 
to reckon up with him. Maxwell took my wad and 
transferred me a piece of bush land another fellow 
claims. I’ve got a row of blamed big trees I can’t 
chop off, and a wagonful of hardware nobody 
wants. Maxwell allowed the town would be at my 
piece before my store was up and I’d sell my nails 
and fixings fast as I could break the kegs.” 

Bob studied the fellow. Wilmot was thin and 
keen, and somehow stealthy, like a rat. He talked 
with a passion Bob thought venomous, although he 
admitted some passion was justified. 


218 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“I’ll try to make good Maxwell’s promises, but 
you must give me a show. To straighten out the 
tangle will take some time.” 

“Then, you better get going, but we want Max¬ 
well now. Put the d-thief out to us.” 

Bob leaned against the railing and knitted his 
brows as if he weighed the demand. The window 
behind him was open and Helen and Mrs. Duff had 
stolen back into the room. Helen saw Bob’s face 
in profile and knew he played a part. Perhaps his 
coolness cost him something, but she thought it 
fine. He meant to occupy the others until Harry’s 
car was some distance off. 

“That’s the stuff, Wilmot!” somebody shouted. 
“We sure want Maxwell and the fat hog, Duff.” 

Duff advanced and smiled. “I’m thinner than I 
was, boys, and before we get all fixed I expect to 
be thinner yet. Anyway, I’m pleased to meet you, 
and if you wait until we get to work-” 

“Take him off, Bob,” said Grey. “Maybe Max¬ 
well fooled you, but it looks as if you were willing. 
Anyhow, Mrs. Caverhill allowed you were satisfied, 
and I let my mortgage run and banked my legacy 
on Helensville. Now I’m broke; nobody will buy 
my lots and I can’t strike a job. We’re not looking 
for trouble with you just now, but you get from 
under and put Maxwell out.” 

“I can't/’ Bob said, smiling. “Maxwell started 
for the ranch some time since.” 




THE FIGHT FOR THE STEPS 219 

“He’s not at the ranch!” Wilmot shouted. 

Bob pulled out his watch. Although he had de¬ 
layed the men for a few minutes, he imagined Max¬ 
well had not got very far along the soft road to 
the landing. 

“Then, I don’t know where he is, but he’s not at 
the hotel.” 

“Let’s get busy and pull the thief out!” Wilmot 
shouted to the crowd and then turned to Ellmer. 
“Shift that bench and stand clear! We don’t want 
to wreck your house.” 

“You’re not going to wreck my house,” said 
Ellmer grimly. “Something’s coming to the man 
who tries, and you won’t find Maxwell. He’s gone 
all right.” 

Mrs. Duff, at the window, tried to draw Helen 
away, but Helen pushed her back. Although she 
was anxious for Bob, the picture the open window 
commanded fixed her glance. In front, stern faces 
were turned to the veranda; farther back, indis¬ 
tinct figures pushed in the gloom, and the shuffle 
of feet and impatient growls indicated an angry 
mob. 

So far, the men had used some control and Helen 
admitted their anger was justified. Harry had 
cheated; but she was glad strangers, and not Bob, 
had forced the reckoning. Yet Bob and Duff must 
pay, and Helen thought their part generous. Bob 
for her sake, and Duff for Bob’s, meant to help 


220 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


the man whose debts they must carry to escape his 
proper punishment. And the man was her brother. 
Helen was sorry for Grey, but she felt she hated 
Wilmot. The thin-faced fellow was Bob’s real 
antagonist. His was not rather stupid, honest 
rage; she thought him cunning and moved by re¬ 
vengeful passion. 

“Don’t talk. Come on!” Wilmot shouted. “Roll 
in behind me. I’m going up!” 

The pushing mob advanced up the steps, but when 
Wilmot climbed the bench rail Bob seized his waist. 
Then he straightened his back and, lifting the other, 
flung him against his followers. Wilmot fell under 
their feet and one or two went down, but others 
began to crawl across the bench. Bob pulled off his 
jacket, split by the muscular effort, and reached for 
his bar. Ellmer jumped down the steps and a 
savage struggle began. 

The bench was an awkward obstacle. The men 
who tried to climb the back could not use their 
hands, but Bob could use his chair-leg and his 
reach was long. Ellmer’s stove iron was heavy, 
and although a few men got over they did not make 
their footing good. Duff and the barkeeper com¬ 
manded the steps above. 

After a minute or two the turmoil stopped, as 
if all agreed to get their breath. Bob’s face was 
smeared by blood, his shirt was torn, and his chest 
heaved. Duff leaned against a post and gasped. 


THE FIGHT FOR THE STEPS 221 

Ellmer, on a higher step, quietly studied the crowd; 
the barkeeper’s hand was at his pocket. Then Wil- 
mot, carrying an ax, again pushed to the front. 

“Give me room to swing,” he said, and the big 
ax shone. 

Bob struck at the fellow’s arm, but the ax came 
down and the bench rail broke. Then somebody 
inside the house shouted, a locked door crashed, 
and Helen faced a fresh angry crowd. Nobody, 
however, bothered about her and Mrs. Duff. The 
men searched the rooms and ran up the stairs. 

Bob heard the noise and imagined the crowd had 
broken in by a back door, but he rather thought 
the men he tried to stop did not know. He struck 
at one’s head, and then Wilmot swung his ax as if 
he meant to cut him down. The barkeeper’s hand 
went up, a sharp report pierced the turmoil, and 
Wilmot fell against the rails. 

“He got it through his arm, but I’ve five more 
shells,” the barkeeper remarked. “If I’ve got to 
shoot again, I’ll stop somebody for good. Quit 
fooling and let’s talk. Maxwell’s surely gone.” 

The leaders hesitated and for a few moments the 
barkeeper, balancing his heavy pistol, dominated 
the mob. Then the revolving door behind him 
swung round and men began to push out on the 
veranda. 

“Maxwell’s beat it,” one shouted. “He’s not in 
the house.” 


222 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“Must have got off in the car; she’s not about 
and Jake’s gone,” another remarked. 

“That’s so; he went a while since,” said Ellmer 
coolly. “Put up your gun, Pete, and throw the 
ax over the rails, Grey. You don’t want to make 
trouble for nothing and Caverhill is willing to 
talk.” 

Wilmot got up. His face was white, but his eyes 
shone with fury and his lips were drawn back. 

“Are you going to let Caverhill talk ?” he shouted 
in a hoarse, cracked voice. “He’s played you for 
trustful suckers and he stole my wad. His part¬ 
ner’s lit out, but he has not.” 

“You’ve made all the trouble we have any use 
for,” one remarked and threw the ax into the street. 
“Now, Mr. Caverhill! Maxwell certainly played us 
and you’re accountable. What are you going to do 
about it?” 

“I don’t know yet,” said Bob and stopped, for 
Wilmot advanced. His arm hung slack and his 
mouth was crooked with pain, but it looked as if 
he did not bother about his hurt. 

“You shipped Maxwell out and held us up while 
he got off. I reckon the boys like you to fool them, 
but you can’t fool me. I’m dead broke and your 
partner’s got my wad. If I don’t get my money 
back, I’ll kill you!” 

“Beat it and get your arm fixed!” said another, 


THE FIGHT FOR THE STEPS 223 

and pushed Wilmot down the steps. Then he 
turned and shouted: “Hello!” 

A' number of men, advancing in compact order, 
pushed through the crowd and when they stopped 
Bob knew the most part were his workmen at the 
dam. Some carried pick-handles and some carried 
mining drills. 

“When we knew the Wilmot gang had got busy 
we reckoned we would come along,” the leader said. 
“Do you want us, boss?” 

“I rather think not,” said Bob, with a smile, and 
turned to his recent antagonists. “It looks as if 
you had not got a square deal, and if my partner 
has cheated you, I must stand for it. We don’t 
yet know where we are, but if you will fix a com¬ 
mittee, Mr. Duff and I will meet you when you like. 
Better make Grey your president. I’ve no use for 
Wilmot.” 

“I want to remark you’re lucky because Maxwell 
pulled out, boys,” said Ellmer dryly. “When you 
start rough-housing, you don’t know where the 
trouble will stop. We all want our money back, but 
to get it back we must push Helensville ahead and 
clubbing folks won’t help. Anyhow, I reckon Mr. 
Caverhill will find a useful plan, and, if you come 
in quiet, so long as the liquor holds out, I’ll set up 
the drinks.” 


XXIII 


BOB SHOULDERS HIS LOAD 

ACCOUNT books, maps and documents covered 
the table under the lamp at the ranch. But 
for the rain that beat the windows all was quiet in 
the big room, and Bob, in an easy-chair, rested his 
head on his bent arm. His pose was slack and his 
look was tired. Helen and Mrs. Duff occupied a 
couch. Duff at the table, studied a document. 

The furniture was dull hardwood. The walls 
were plain cedar and one saw the roof-beams. Two 
or three black-bear skins emphasized the spacious¬ 
ness of the floor and the great rough-stone fireplace 
was like the fireplace at an old baronial hall. In 
the cavernous hollow heaped cordwood snapped. 

For the most part, Helen had left the room alone. 
The decorations one used in England would jar in 
a room like that, and she approved its rude aus¬ 
terity. At the ranch all was big and somehow dig¬ 
nified. Moreover, Bob was content and she felt he 
harmonized with his house. 

Helen admitted that, in a sense, Bob was big, and 
although sometimes he was humorous, he was 
austere. For one thing, he was sternly just; he 

gave and demanded a square deal. The settlers’ 

224 


BOB SHOULDERS HIS LOAD 225 


committee had recently gone and Helen imagined 
the men knew Bob would not disown his debts. In 
fact, his resolve disturbed her, because the debts 
were not really his. 

She had supported Harry and declared his rules 
were her rules; but Harry had cheated and Bob 
bore his punishment. She wanted to confess her¬ 
self a fool and yet she shrank. Although she had 
thought her pride was broken, she was horribly 
ashamed. By and by Duff put back the paper he 
studied. 

“When we agreed we would see the boys out 
we were rash. Their claims are pretty numerous 
and our money’s gone.” 

“It looks as if we were rash; but I don’t know,” 
said Bob. “The ranch is mine and it’s in the neigh¬ 
borhood of a rising settlement.” 

“I doubt if all the boys have got a legal claim. 
Anyhow, they could not force you to sell the ranch.” 

“All the same, I am forced to sell,” Bob said 
quietly; and when Helen saw his stern look she 
blushed. 

Bob loved his ranch; to let it go would hurt, but 
she knew he would not shrink. 

“There’s another thing; Helensville is not a rising 
settlement,” Duff resumed. 

“Helensville will rise,” said Bob. “It’s advan¬ 
tages are marked and the site is good. Maxwell’s 
judgment was sound, although his plan was not.” 


226 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“What is your plan?” 

“To begin with, I will, if possible, mortgage the 
ranch, and if a number of the boys want to quit, 
we’ll take their lots for transfer value and hold the 
land. I reckon some will decide to remain.” 

“You are pretty keen,” Duff remarked with a 
smile. “Our buying ought to persuade the doubters 
not to go.” 

“Then we’ll subsidize somebody to put up a mill. 
Give him a free site, and power at cut rates. If it 
didn’t break us, we might take some stock. Some¬ 
thing like that. For a start, I’ll see Alsager.” 

“Maxwell declared Alsager let him down.” 

“I wonder- But we’ll let it go,” Bob said 

dryly and gave Helen an apologetic glance. “In 
the meantime, Harry has let us down and I’m puz¬ 
zled. His plan was built on bluff, but since he’s not 
at all a fool, the strange thing is, he didn’t see he 
could not put the bluff across.” 

“At the beginning, he did not see,” Duff replied 
in a thoughtful voice. “He is young and ambitious, 
and when he started I think he was honest. He 
knew his talents and trusted his luck. All the same, 
the job was bigger than he thought and when he 
got going he couldn’t stop. He must get there and 
he pushed ahead, into hopeless entanglement. Then 
I reckon he went loco, like a corralled steer. All he 
knew was, he must break the entanglements.” 

Helen turned and her glance was gentle. “Thank 



BOB SHOULDERS HIS LOAD 227 

you, Mr. Duff! For long I was Harry’s proud 
champion, and now I’m his apologist it hurts. I 
think you knew him; he was not consciously dis¬ 
honest, but for a time, perhaps, his luck was too 
good. He had marked talent and got things easily. 
He was carried away and imagined he could get all 
he wanted to get. Yet, although his object, as a 
rule, was good, he was not scrupulous. He was not 
broken by outside forces; his temperament broke 
him.” She looked at Bob and resumed: “Harry 
was a gambler and bet high; I think his tempera¬ 
ment is mine.” 

Bob looked straight in front and knitted his 
brows. 

“Your brother got bitten by the mania for specu¬ 
lation that’s the curse of this country. In the West, 
we’re a rashly optimistic lot, and although we put 
over some daunting jobs, we rather owe it to the 
construction gangs than the company-floaters. Well 
I’m not a philosopher, but I’m persuaded when you 
try to get rich quick you run a dangerous risk. Any¬ 
how, the risk ought to be yours, and if you lose you 
must be able to meet the bill.” 

“Somebody must pay!” said Helen with a dreary 
smile. “After all, Harry may be forced to do so. 
Perhaps I’m ridiculous, but I hate to know he mar¬ 
ried the road-house girl.” 

Mrs. Duff turned and her glance was hard. “I 
am sorry for Coral. The girl has pluck and loves 


228 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


your brother. If he, after all, makes good, his wife 
will be accountable.” 

“Ah,” said Helen, “I knew from the beginning 
you were antagonistic, but now I must admit you 
had some grounds.” 

“I wasn’t kind,” said Mrs. Duff. “We all got a 
nasty knock, and sometimes when I’m hurt I like 
to hurt my friends. But Harry’s gone and I must 
try to banish my antagonism. I hope he will make 
good and, if his wife is the girl I think, it’s very 
possible.” 

She got up and turned to Duff. They went off 
and Bob went to his desk. After a time, Helen 
crossed the floor and touched him gently. 

“If you hated me, I would not think it strange.” 

Bob turned his head, but after a moment or two 
his glance went back to the calculations on his desk. 
The figures bothered him and he must concentrate 
on the sum. Moreover, Helen sometimes exagger¬ 
ated. 

“I certainly don’t hate you, and if I did, I would 
not be logical. The settlement scheme was Harry’s. 
You had nothing to do with it!” 

“You are horribly logical,” Helen rejoined. 

“It’s possible. I imagined you had not much use 
for romantic sentiment.” 

Helen blushed. In some respects. Bob was dull. 
He had indulged her coldness and tried for resigna- 


BOB SHOULDERS HIS LOAD 229 

tion, but he had not seen that since his accident she 
did not want him to be resigned. 

“Perhaps that was so, Bob, and after all you are 
a very good sort/’ she said. “Harry cheated you, 
although I think you, like Mrs. Duff, were not alto¬ 
gether deceived. You doubted Harry, but I urged 
you and, for my sake, you were willing to speculate. 
In a way, I cheated you, but you don’t disown me.” 

Bob put down his pencil and frowned. The cal¬ 
culations demanded careful thought and he was 
rather annoyed by Helen’s theatrical mood. She 
was obviously highly strung, but he bore some strain 
and calm was indicated. 

“I expect I ought not to have speculated, but you 
talk extravagantly and there’s no use in our dis¬ 
puting.” 

“Do you think I like disputing, Bob?” 

“Sometimes it looks like that, but I’ll try to banish 
your doubts. Although Harry used me and let me 
down, you are not accountable. You, very properly, 
wanted to help your brother and didn’t see where 
he led us. In fact, I rather think he did not see. 
Anyhow, the thing’s done with!” 

“And all you want is to get on with your job?” 

“I must get on with it,” said Bob rather grimly. 
“I’m not grumbling, but I’ve got to carry a big load.” 

“The load my brother left for you?” 

“There’s no use in forcing me to admit it,” Bob 


230 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

rejoined. “I have got the load. That's important; 
the other thing is not." 

Helen turned her head. She was sorry for Bob 
and had meant to sympathize and confess her shab¬ 
biness, but he did not want her sympathy. The dif¬ 
ficulties he faced absorbed him; he wanted to be left 
alone. 

“Oh, well," she said in a dreary voice, “I know 
you don’t like to be bothered. Your keenness to 
get to work is, of course, logical, but sometimes 
logic’s not a first-rate guide." 

She went off and joined Mrs. Duff in another 
room, and a few minutes afterward Bob threw the 
papers into his desk. He was vaguely conscious 
that he had not taken the proper line, but to talk 
about Maxwell’s crookedness would not help. His 
part was, if possible, to put things straight and to 
do so was hard. Moreover, he had tried to indulge 
Helen and, if she was not content, he could not see 
what she did want. Perhaps to talk to Duff for a 
few minutes would soothe him and he went to the 
veranda. 

The rain had stopped, Duff smoked his pipe, and 
when Bob joined him they walked up and down the 
boards. 

“You are getting the boys; that’s something," 
Duff remarked. “Not long since Grey was an awk¬ 
ward antagonist, but he’s cooling off and the moder¬ 
ate lot will go with him. The boys begin to see 


BOB SHOULDERS HIS LOAD 231 


you mean to treat them right. All the same, there’s 
another gang and Wilmot is boss. You want to 
watch out for him; he’s venomous.” 

“A number of the boys got badly stung,” said 
Bob. “If they don’t trust us and run an obstinate 
opposition, I must stand for it.” 

Duff stopped in front of the room his wife and 
Helen occupied. 

“Wilmot won’t run the sort of opposition you ex¬ 
pect. The fellow’s a dangerous crank. He can’t 
chop, he can’t dig, and now he’s broke nobody has 
much use for him.” 

“If that is so, I’ll engage him at the dam.” 

Duff smiled. “If you think you could hire up 
Wilmot, you don’t know your man! In a way, I 
imagine he’s honest; he reckons his business is to 
make you pay for Maxwell’s robbing him. A man 
like that is not fastidious; so long as he gets you, 
he’ll be satisfied. If he can’t see another plan, he 
might pull a gun in the dark.” 

Bob’s control went. He was tired and felt his 
load was all he could carry. 

“Very well,” he said in a stern voice, “I doubt if 
I’m fastidious. Anyhow, if Wilmot bothers me, 
I’ll smash the brute. I haven’t much use for carry¬ 
ing guns, but I am a good shot-” 

He stopped, forced a laugh, and resumed: 
“Shucks! I’m not playing for a film and the night 
is cold. Let’s go in. I want to know-” 




232 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


They started for the door and Mrs. Duff, in the 
neighboring room, looked at Helen. 

‘‘Tom didn’t notice he was in front of the window 
and the window isn’t shut. It’s possible he exag¬ 
gerates, but he has gone about the settlement and 
talked to the boys. Perhaps Bob ought to use some 
caution.” 

“I think he will do so,” said Helen with a dis¬ 
turbed look. “Sometimes Bob is obstinate and he 
hates to be theatrical, but he’s not a fool.” 


XXIV 


wilmot’s gun 

T? LLMER was engaged at his desk, but by and 
by he put down his pen and looked thought¬ 
fully about. His accounts bothered him and indi¬ 
cated that his venture was rash. For a new settle¬ 
ment, the hotel was ambitious and the room was 
large, but the floor was roughly boarded and the 
walls were thin and cracked. A bench went along 
one side and the chairs were plain bent-wood. Some¬ 
times Ellmer speculated about a floor of inlaid 
blocks, paneling and upholstered furniture; but he 
admitted he must wait and might wait for long. 

Yet he was not daunted. Ellmer was stubborn 
and knew something about the building of bush set¬ 
tlements. Although water power, milling lumber 
and useful minerals helped, the real driving force 
was confidence. If the settlers believed the town 
would go ahead, it went. Maxwell, in a sense, had 
not cheated Ellmer. Ellmer knew Harry’s draw¬ 
backs, but he knew his talent and pluck. If the fel¬ 
low had played a straight game and cut out drink¬ 
ing, he might have put his plan across. Harry, 
however, had not played straight and liquor had 
broken him. 


233 


234 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Ellmer tried to be philosophical. It was done 
with and he rather thought Coral would see her hus¬ 
band after all made good. In the meantime, Ellmer 
resolved to support Caverhill. Although Caverhill 
had not Harry’s talent, he had talent of a sort and 
he meant to put things straight. Maxwell, however, 
had left him some awkward entanglements and a 
number of the boys made him accountable for his 
partner’s crookedness. Perhaps Caverhill was ac¬ 
countable, but since he admitted it and tried to 
make good, the boys must leave him alone. 

Turning his head, Ellmer studied a group by the 
stove. The men’s clothes were shabby and their 
long boots were broken. None had a useful occupa¬ 
tion; they loafed about the corners of the blocks and 
grumbled about their luck. Ellmer admitted their 
luck was not good and they had got stung, but to 
intrigue against Caverhill would not help. He 
imagined they could account for the trouble the 
workmen at the flume made for Bob. In fact, Ell¬ 
mer did not like the gang’s loafing around his stove. 

Wilmot’s feet were on the wood-box and he tilted 
back his chair against a post. His thin face was 
pinched, his nose and jaw were sharply pointed, and 
his forehead sloped. His look was malignant and 
he talked in a low voice. When he lifted his pipe 
his ragged sleeve fell back and Ellmer noted the 
dirty bandage on his arm. Although Ellmer did not 
think him drunk, he had used some liquor. Some- 


WILMOTS GUN 


235 


times the others nodded, as if they agreed; some¬ 
times Ellmer thought they disputed, but the room 
was big and the stove was at the other end. 

‘That’s fixed,” said Wilmot presently in a loud 
voice. “Cm on. Let’s get a drink.” 

The party crossed the floor and Ellmer resumed 
his occupation. He thought Wilmot plotted some¬ 
thing and his mood was dangerous, but if he fol¬ 
lowed the gang, the boys would not talk. After a 
time he heard a noise and went to the bar-room door. 
Wilmot was at the counter and tried to reach across. 
Pete, the barkeeper, leaned against a shelf and 
quietly polished a glass. A nickeled lamp hung 
from a beam and the rows of bottles shone. 

“What’s the trouble?” Ellmer inquired. 

“The crowd’s broke. Jim wants drinks for the 
lot for two-bits.” 

Ellmer smiled. “Nothing’s doing, boys!” 

“Money’s all right,” said one. “Wilmot’s gonna 
get a pile.” 

“Trust killed the cat,” Ellmer remarked. “I 
reckon you have had enough and had better light 
out.” 

“Set them up,” said another. “In a day or two 
we’ll meet the bill.” 

“That won’t go,” said Ellmer, who saw two or 
three were drunker than he had thought. “Where 
do you reckon to get the wad?” 

“We’re certainly not going to steal it,” the other 


236 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

rejoined. “Your relation got busy first, and all the 
money he left around Helensville don’t amount to 
much. Caverhill will put up the wad.” 

Wilmot gave the fellow a savage glance. “Quit 
talking. Do you want to put him wise?” He 
turned to Ellmer. “You got our money when we 
had some, and we’re not broke for good.” 

“If you were the sort we want at Helensville, you 
could have drinks on me; but you’re not the sort 
and I want to see you go.” 

Wilmot leaned forward over the counter and tried 
to reach the shelf. “I want that bottle, Pete. Shove 
it right across. I got a pick on you.” 

“You’ve got my mark,” Pete rejoined and indi¬ 
cated the bandage on the other’s arm. “Anyhow, 
you can’t have the bottle.” 

“When you put your mark on me, I’d got an ax 
and was jammed up in a crowd,” Wilmot shouted 
and put his hand in his pocket. “Now I got a gun. 
Your boss belongs to the frame-up gang. I don’t 
know about you yet, but gimme the bottle. Be 
quick!” 

Pete glanced at Ellmer and was quick. Seizing 
the top of the counter, he jumped across and jammed 
Wilmot’s arm against his side. Wilmot was light 
and shaken by passion; Pete was muscular and cool. 
He swung his antagonist off his feet and carried 
him to the door. When he threw Wilmot into the 
street he pulled his white shirt straight and smiled. 


WILMOT’S GUN 


237 

“If somebody else has a pick on me, he can get 
going, but I don’t want trouble. Maybe you better 
light out, boys.” 

The others hesitated. They knew the barkeeper’s 
quality, and Ellmer’s grim calm was ominous. 
After a moment or two they went, and Ellmer, re¬ 
turning to his desk, wrote a note. 

The Wilmot gang have something on you. I 
don’t know much yet, but Wilmot’s carrying a 
gun and you want to watch out. 

Then he rang for Pete and gave him the envelope. 

“You might take the letter to Mr. Caverhill. I’ll 
tend the bar.” 

Pete went off and at the ranch was shown into 
Bob’s office. Bob was occupied with some calcula¬ 
tions, for although the dam was finished he was 
building a flume and leveling a factory site. When 
he had studied the note, Pete narrated the dispute in 
the bar. 

“The boys are certainly after you and they’ve got 
a plan, but I don’t know where they’ll start,” he 
said. 

“I think I know,” Bob remarked and frowned. 

A number of his rancher workmen had gone back 
to their homesteads, and the fresh men he had en¬ 
gaged were not satisfied. Some were frankly grum¬ 
bling loafers, but nobody at Helensville was optimis¬ 
tic and Bob admitted that where he carried his flume 


238 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


across the rocks the job was risky. Moreover, 
since the days were short and speed was important, 
he did not stop at dark. If Wilmot worked on the 
dissatisfied men, it was possible they would refuse to 
build the flume unless he gave them extra pay. 

“Thank you, Pete/’ he said. “I will watch out.” 

The barkeeper went off and for a time Bob re¬ 
sumed his calculations. Then he pulled out his 
watch and put on his long boots and slicker. Ell- 
mer’s note disturbed him and his habit was to go 
to the flume in the evening. Opening a drawer in 
a bureau, he took out a revolver and noted 
that three or four chambers were loaded. Bob had 
not much use for a pistol, and although the revolver 
was rather out of date he had not bothered to buy 
an automatic. In fact, he imagined his carrying the 
weapon was ridiculous. 

The night was calm and the sky was cloudy, but 
sometimes for a few minutes the moon shone and 
silver beams touched the pines. Then the pale il¬ 
lumination faded and the big trunks and stiff 
branches melted in the gloom. For all that, the 
black, saw-edged tops cut the sky and vaguely 
marked the winding trail. Bob’s boots rattled in 
the gravel and sometimes he plunged into a pool, but 
all was quiet and, absorbed by moody thought, he 
pushed on. 

Not long after he started, Helen went to the of¬ 
fice. Bob had stated he would be occupied for some 


WILMOT’S GUN 


239 


time, but although the lamp burned he was not 
about, and Helen, going to the table, saw Ellmer’s 
note. She wondered whether the note accounted 
for his going off, and then a loose window rattled 
as if jarred by a distant noise. 

Helen went to the veranda and looked about. 
The moon shone behind the pine-tops and the re¬ 
flections of the blast-lamps at the flume trembled 
upon a bank of cloud. In the distance, the river 
throbbed, but nothing disturbed the brooding calm. 
Then Helen saw she had brought Ellmer’s note from 
the office and she went back and put the paper in 
Bob’s desk. The quietness bothered her and she 
joined Mrs. Duff in another room. Duff had re¬ 
turned to Vancouver, but his wife had agreed to 
stay for some time. 

“Did you hear a noise a few minutes ago?” 
Helen asked, and, when Mrs. Duff said she had not, 
resumed in a thoughtful voice: “The window shook, 
Sometimes it does shake, but the night is calm. 
Then the jar was sharp, as if a gun had gone off 
in the woods.” 

“Perhaps a little draught shook the glass,” Mrs. 
Duff suggested soothingly. “People don’t go shoot¬ 
ing at night. At all events, I heard nothing.” 

Helen was not much comforted, but she did not 
know if she had heard a shot. All she knew was, 
the window rattled, and to send a man to search 
the woods was perhaps ridiculous. She began to 


240 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


talk about something else and when Mrs. Duff went 
to bed she got a book. The effort to interest herself 
was hard and she put away the book and brooded 
until at length she heard a step. Somebody was 
coming along the trail and her heart beat, for she 
thought the step was Bob’s. When she opened the 
door she saw his look was stern. 

“Hello!” he said. “I didn’t want you to wait, 
and I must go to the office. You ought to go to 
bed.” 

Helen resolved to say nothing about the suppositi¬ 
tious shot. 

“You are tired, Bob. Would you like some 
coffee ?” 

“I think not, although you’re kind,” said Bob and 
smiled, a rather moody smile. “If I can start a 
factory, I’m willing to stand for getting tired, but 
sometimes I doubt. The fresh hands at the flume 
are a blamed obstinate lot, and it looks as if some 
folks mean to baffle me. Well, since I want to beat 
them, I must get to work.” 

He pulled off his muddy boots and slicker and 
Helen saw he was resolved to go to the office. 

“You ought to think of yourself and not bother 
about the settlement,” she said and let him go. 


XXV 


INGLIS TAKES CONTROL 

T N the morning, soon after daybreak, a teamster 
loaded his wagon behind the Inglis grocery. 
Inglis himself wheeled boxes and bags of flour from 
a log storehouse. He was short, rather fat, and wore 
thick spectacles. As a rule, his movements were 
methodically slow, and when he talked his voice was 
thoughtful. Some people thought him dull, but his 
store was the best at Helensville and he had recently 
been appointed magistrate. Grant, an old sealing 
captain, was constable, and for the most part his 
duty was to drive the settlers’ hogs from the garden 
lots. 

At the small settlements the officers of the law 
are to some extent chosen by popular suffrage, and 
the Helensville citizens liked Inglis because he did 
not make trouble. They liked Captain Jake because 
he was urbane and, when the hogs did not bother 
him, he would chop cordwood for his neighbors and 
plant their vegetables. In the bush, an old sailor 
is a useful man. Some thought the appointments 
rather a joke, but they did not yet know Inglis and 
Grant. 

“I guess you got all Caverhill’s truck,” Inglis re- 

241 


242 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


marked. “Bill will help you dump the bags and load 
up potatoes at the ranch.” 

Bill climbed the wheel and the teamster started 
his horses. The morning was cold and although the 
trail was rough the animals trotted fast. The 
wagon rocked and the men jolted about on the 
spring seat, until Bill was thrown against the rail. 

“Can’t you hold them, Tom? I haven’t got a 
rubber back,” he gasped. 

“They’re fresh and a high-fed fresh horse is a 
blamed fool,” said Tom and used the whip. “Maybe 
to run them up the hill will help them go steady, but 
if you see an old newspaper, you want to jump. A 
while back, we met The Colonist blowing in the 
wind-” 

The near horse snorted, plunged and stopped. 
Then it pushed against the -other, the wagon 
sw T erved, and the pole went across the trail. It 
looked as if the horses were now resolved not to go 
ahead, and Tom, bracing his feet against a board, 
pulled the reins. Bill leaned over the seat-rail and 
thought he saw a white object in the bushes a few 
yards from the wheels. 

“Something’s got the brutes scared,” he said. 
“Let them go the way they want; I’ll jump off.” 

He got down and looked about. The trail went 
up hill round a curve and Bill somehow felt the 
spot was lonely. He heard the wind in the trees, 
and when the dark branches moved big drops fell 



INGLIS TAKES CONTROL 243 


into a shallow pool. At one end of the pool was a 
curious red stain, and the soil was disturbed, as if 
somebody had pulled a heavy object across the trail. 

Bill felt he must brace up, but when he followed 
the track into the brush he stopped. The white 
patch he had remarked was the lining of a coat and 
the coat was pulled back over a man’s head. The 
man’s body was in the dead fern and Bill thought 
his quietness ominous. 

“Hitch your horses so’s they can’t see and c’mon 
quick!” he shouted, in a hoarse voice. 

Tom arrived and with some hesitation pulled the 
coat straight. The man’s face was turned from him, 
but Tom touched his neck and shivered, for his 
skin was cold. 

“All in, I reckon,” he said quietly. “Wonder who 
it is.” 

Bill got down on his knees and after a few mo¬ 
ments turned to the other. 

“Wilmot! Somebody’s plugged him. Put him 
out first shot, a while since.” 

“Don’t talk,” said the teamster. “Get hold. 
We’ve got to take him to the settlement. Caverhill’s 
truck must wait.” 

Five minutes afterward they climbed back into 
the wagon. They had not known they were hot, 
but their faces were wet by sweat and Bill’s hands 
shook. Tom started his horses and until they were 
near the settlement they did not talk. 


244 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“We’ll ride round to the back store/’ the teamster 
remarked. “Old man Inglis and Captain Jake must 
get busy, but I reckon they don’t want a crowd 
round yet.” 

They stopped at the log storehouse fronting the 
quiet bush, and when Inglis arrived carried in their 
load. Inglis shut the door and after a few minutes 
said, “Maybe I’ll want some help and I’ll swear you 
for constables. Then Bill will go for Captain Jake, 
and since Learmont claims he’s a doctor, you can 
send him along, but don’t put the boys wise. Tom 
will pull out Caverhill’s goods; I want the wagon.” 

The others went with him to his office and when 
they were sworn for constables Inglis lighted his 
pipe. He did not know much about a magistrate’s 
duties and frankly wished another had got his post. 
For all that, a Canadian citizen was shot and the 
man who shot him must be punished. Moreover, 
the settlers’ mood was angry, and unless they were 
satisfied even justice would be done, some might 
start a riot. 

When the mob broke into the hotel Inglis was- at 
.Victoria and on his return he had pondered the sit¬ 
uation and resolved not to meddle. Wilmot had 
forced the bartender to shoot, but was not much 
hurt and since an inquiry might lead to turmoil 
Inglis thought the proper plan was to leave it alone. 
Now, however, he must carry out the law, although 
to begin with he must arrest the man he trusted to 


INGLIS TAKES CONTROL 245 


mend the settlement’s fortunes. To imagine Caver- 
hill had shot Wilmot was ridiculous, but Inglis ad¬ 
mitted it looked like that. 

By and by he went to the hotel and for a few 
minutes talked to Ellmer. Then he sent for the 
wagon and ordered the teamster to start for the 
ranch. 

When the horses swung round the last curve in 
the homestead trail breakfast was over. Bob had 
not yet gone off and sat by the fire. Helen and 
Mrs. Duff were by the window. 

“I hear wheels,” said Helen. “Perhaps Inglis is 
sending the supplies he ought to have sent last 
night. I expect his man is coming.” 

“Tom’s coming pretty fast; it doesn’t look as if 
he’d put up much of a load,” Bob remarked and 
going to the window, resumed: “He’s brought 
Inglis and Captain Jake. I wonder what they want.” 

Helen and he went to the veranda and when the 
others came up the steps Bob inquired: “Have you 
had breakfast?” 

“Why, yes,” said Inglis and looking over his thick 
spectacles, gave him an embarrassed glance. “I’m 
sorry, Caverhill, but we want you.” 

“I don’t get the joke,” Bob rejoined with a laugh. 

“It is not at all a joke,” said Inglis in a quiet 
voice. “Wilmot was shot and killed some time after 
he started for your ranch last night.” 

Bob’s face got red and he clenched his fist. 


246 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“You’re not loco, Inglis! You don’t imagine I shot 
the fellow?” 

“I’m a magistrate and my duty’s to hold you until 
we find out something.” 

“Let’s go to the office,” said Bob with an effort 
for control. “But we don’t need you, Helen. I 
expect I can satisfy Inglis.” 

Helen went along the passage, and opening the 
office door, ran to Bob’s desk, for she wondered 
whether he had forgotten Ellmer’s note. She 
opened the desk, but the note was not where she 
had thought and when she began to move some 
papers her hands shook. In the meantime, Inglis 
heard the door shut and put himself in front of 
Bob. 

“Stop Mrs. Caverhill, Jake,” he said, and Grant 
jumped into the office. 

The constable was old and rather fat, but some¬ 
times he moved fast. He saw Helen take something 
from the desk and he seized her arm. 

“You mustn’t tear that paper, Mrs. Caverhill.” 

Helen twisted her body and got her arm loose. 
Her face was white, but her eyes shone and she 
tore the note across. Then the constable got a 
firmer hold, and bending her head, she tried to carry 
the pieces to her mouth. 

“Hold on, Caverhill; you mustn’t meddle,” said 
Inglis, but Bob pushed him back, plunged into the 
office, and threw Grant against the wall. 


INGLIS TAKES CONTROL 247 

Helen, shaken by the struggle, dropped the note. 
She stooped in order to pick it up, but Inglis had 
come in behind Bob and put his foot on the paper. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Caverhill, but you must leave that 
note alone!” 

The blood came to Helen’s skin and she faced 
Inglis haughtily. She was anxious for Bob but her 
traditions were English. For the storekeeper to 
command her was not to be borne. 

“Move your foot!” she said. “The note’s my 
husband’s.” 

“That’s not so,” said Inglis in a quiet voice. “I 
reckon it’s the Government of Canada’s.” 

Helen’s color vanished. For a moment she had 
forgotten the grocer was a magistrate. Her face 
went white and she turned to Bob. 

“Oh!” she said, “I have not helped-” 

“It’s not important; he’d have got the note, any¬ 
how,” said Bob and forced a smile. “Let’s get on 
with it, Inglis.” 

Inglis picked up the torn pieces, put them together 
carefully, and nodded. Then he looked about the 
room and indicated a pistol on a bureau. 

“Get that gun, Jake!” 

The constable picked up the pistol, bent down the 
barrel and turned the cylinder. 

“A five-shot. She carries three loaded shells. 
The barrel’s clean ” 

“Your gun, Mr. Caverhill?” said Inglis and re- 



248 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


sumed in an apologetic voice: “My job’s new and 
maybe I’m not starting as I ought. I wrote a war¬ 
rant ; I don’t quite know the proper form, but reckon 
it will stand. Wait a moment-” 

He pulled out the document, and when he began 
to read Helen leaned against the table. Her pose 
was slack and she trembled, but she gave Bob a 
smile, as if to indicate that she knew the charge 
ridiculous. Bob stood very straight and clenched his 
hands. 

“That’s fixed,” Inglis remarked. “Now I guess 
you know you’re not forced to talk? If you make 
a statement, it might be used against you when I 
call the court.” 

“I do know-” Bob replied with some dryness, 

and when he paused Helen gave him an anxious 
glance. 

Her heart beat and she breathed fast. The sus¬ 
pense tormented her. For Bob to shoot Wilmot be¬ 
cause he was his antagonist was impossible; but 
perhaps the fellow had waylaid Bob and, drawing 
his pistol first, had forced him to shoot. 

“You must use my statement as you think you 
ought,” Bob resumed, and although he looked at 
Inglis, Helen knew he spoke to her. “The note 
you have got was sent to me and the pistol is mine, 
but I did not use the gun and I have not met Wilmot 
for three or four days. That’s all.” 




INGLIS TAKES CONTROL 249 


“Very well,” said Inglis. “My duty’s to take you 
along and hold you until I find out if I have grounds 
to send you up for trial. Jake, you go see if the 
team’s all right.” 

Grant went off and Inglis went to the passage 
and rather noisily shut the office door. Helen let 
go the table and put her arms round Bob. 

“My dear! Oh, my dear!” she said. “It’s hor¬ 
rible, and perhaps if I had not meddled-” 

“You meant to help, and I left the note about,” 
Bob replied in a quiet voice, although he was 
strongly moved. 

Helen clung to him, as if she dared not let him 
go; she sobbed and her slender body shook. He 
remembered that when he was ill she was very kind 
and gentle, but somehow he got a hint of reserve. 
The strange thing was, he felt as if she wanted him 
to break her reserve. Sometimes he tried, but he 
was weak and dull, and when he got better the 
settlement absorbed him. Now he knew Helen was 
altogether his and he thrilled triumphantly. 

‘You mustn’t bother,” he said. “I’d face a 
worse trouble to know you cared like that. Inglis 
is forced to carry out the law, but I expect he knows 
he hasn’t got the proper man. Brace up. In a day 
or two I’ll be back.” 

He kissed Helen and held her against his breast. 
She shook and her breath was hard to get. 



THE BUSH-RANCHER 


250 

“Oh, Bob-!” she gasped and stopped, for har¬ 

ness rattled and a horse stamped. Then Inglis beat 
on the door. 

“Don’t you want to take some clothes along, Mr. 
Caverhill ?” 

Bob gently pushed Helen back and the color 
drained from her face, for Inglis’s remark was 
ominous. 

“I was shabby and very hard, Bob,” she said 
with an effort for calm. “I didn’t know all I’d 
got and that my luck was better than I deserved. 
Then, when I began to find out, I saw you doubted 
Harry, and he is my brother. But now I do know 
all, dear, and when you come back-” 

The door opened noisily and Inglis said, “When 
you have got your clothes we’ll start.” 

Helen brought the clothes and went with Bob to 
the veranda. His look was very stern, but Helen, 
not bothering about the constable, put her arms 
round his neck and pulled down his head. Bob’s 
arms went round her, strained, and got slack. Then 
he picked up his valise and got in the wagon. The 
teamster started the horses and Helen, leaning 
against the railing for support, tried to smile. 
After a few minutes the wagon went round a curve 
in the trail, the beat of hoofs died away and Bob 
was gone. Helen turned, and went slowly into the 
house. 




XXVI 


THE INQUIRY 

* I V HE big dining-room at the hotel was crowded 
-*■ and people stood about the veranda. Al¬ 
though the windows were open, the room smelled 
of hot iron, tobacco and damp clothes, but some¬ 
times one smelled the pines and heard the rain. 
Inglis occupied the clerk’s desk and studied the 
crowd. He was short and rather fat and his 
clothes were the clothes small settlement stores sup- 
ply. 

For the most part, the men’s faces indicated 
curiosity. Some, however, were sympathetic and 
some frankly hostile. Helensville had not made the 
progress its founders promised, the settlers’ money 
had melted and a number had not yet got the lots 
they bought. They admitted they did not know if 
Caverhill himself were accountable, but he belonged 
to the frame-up gang. 

Bob and Constable Grant occupied chairs in front 
of the desk; Helen was a yard or two back, and 
Ellmer leaned against the neighboring wall. Helen 
felt that so far he rather than the magistrate domi¬ 
nated the crowd, and to know he was Bob’s friend 
was some comfort. Bob looked straight in front 

and his face was inscrutable. 

251 


252 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“Quit talking, boys/’ said the constable, and Inglis 
read aloud from a large document. Then he pushed 
down his spectacles and coughed. 

“That commission’s my authority and all it states 
goes. Since we haven’t yet got a court-house I’m 
using the hotel, and until we put through our busi¬ 
ness the bar will be shut.” 

“We haven’t yet got a pulp-mill,” somebody re¬ 
marked and two or three laughed. “We sure want 
the mill, but I don’t know that we’re keen about a 
magistrate who runs a soda fountain and wants to 
cut out man’s-size liquor.” 

“My bar is shut and is going to stay shut,” said 
Ellmer dryly. “The gentleman who’s kicking hates 
to pay for his drinks.” 

Inglis motioned to him to be quiet and calmly 
faced the crowd. 

“I do run a soda fountain and a grocery. My 
occupation’s to supply useful goods; but now I 
stand for the people of British Columbia. You 
want to get that,” he said with a touch of dig¬ 
nity. 

“Well, a neighbor of ours was shot. Maybe he 
was broke and not important, but the law takes count 
of great and small. If you pull a gun on a Cana¬ 
dian citizen, you must answer for it to the Dominion. 
Wilmot was picked up in the bush with a bullet in 
his chest, and my business is to inquire who used the 
gun and, if I can find out, send the man for trial. 


253 


iTHE INQUIRY 

I’m going to do it, boys, and it won’t weigh if the 
man’s my friend or not. In the bush, we haven’t 
got lawyers and maybe I’m cutting out some legal 
forms, but the court is open You can see if the 
deal is square. And now we’ll go ahead-” 

The crowd was quiet. Nobody had yet known 
the storekeeper talk like that, but they vaguely saw 
he did stand for something greater than himself 
and them. He nodded and Bill narrated his finding 
Wilmot in the wood. Then Inglis called for Alec 
Learmont and a young man advanced. 

“You claim to be a doctor, Learmont?” 

“I do not. All the same, for some time I studied 
surgery.” 

“Why did you quit?” 

“Perhaps it doesn’t interest you, but the hospital 
committee thought I ought to quit.” 

“Very well,” said Inglis. “We have not a proper 
doctor and you examined Wilmot. Are you satis¬ 
fied the bullet you took out killed him?” 

“I am satisfied Wilmot did not live five minutes 
after he was hit.” 

“How long do you calculate that was before you 
saw the body?” 

“Maybe twelve hours. Certainly some time.” 

Inglis nodded. “Looks as if Wilmot was shot 
when he started for the ranch in the evening.” He 
turned to Ellmer. “Wilmot was at your house and 
made some trouble?” 



254 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

“Sure! The gang wanted drinks but didn’t want 
to pay.” 

“That was all?” 

“When a tanker wants a drink bad and can’t get 
it, he gets mad.” 

Inglis put two or three small pieces of paper on 
his desk. “You sent Mr. Caverhill a note. You 
stated the Wilmot gang was after him and he must 
watch out. Why did you write the note?” 

“The boys had used some liquor,” said Ellmer, 
frowning. “When my barkeep put Wilmot out they 
were riled. They couldn’t get after me, but I 
reckoned they might go for Caverhill.” 

“Why did you reckon they might go for Caver¬ 
hill?” 

“Caverhill was Maxwell’s partner and the boys 
thought they’d got stung. They’re a dud lot, their 
money was gone, and nobody would hire them up. 
I calculated they might try to make Caverhill pay.” 

Inglis indicated that Ellmer was to sit down, and 
said, “I want Jim Smith.” 

A man advanced and gave Bob a malignant glance. 

“I’m a dud all right, but when I located at Helens- 
ville I had five hundred dollars and turned down a 
useful job. The Caverhill gang and Ellmer got my 
wad.” 

“Cut it out!” said Inglis. “You and Wilmot 
were at the hotel bar. What was the trouble?” 


255 


THE INQUIRY 

“The barkeep wouldn’t serve us and we got mad. 
Wilmot was maddest and pretty drunk. He allowed 
Caverhill would stand for all the liquor Pete put 
up.” 

Bob turned his head and gave the fellow a grim 
smile. “If Pete had trusted you, he’d have got 
stung. The liquor I’d have seen you got is in Shadow 
Lake.” 

“If you want to talk, we’ll hear you afterwards,” 
Inglis remarked “Go on. Smith. Do you know 
why Wilmot imagined Caverhill would pay?” 

“I certainly know. Caverhill’s lot worked a frame- 
up on us and somebody had to pay. Duff’s at Van¬ 
couver and Maxwell’s lit out. Ellmer helped him 
get off, and policeman Jake let them alone. When 
your friend’s a magistrate-” 

“Quit it,” said Inglis sternly. “Maxwell was not 
my friend.” 

“Let him talk!” shouted somebody at the back of 
the room. “Maxwell worked the frame-up and 
when he beat it you and Jake sat tight. Now you 
get Bob Caverhill who wants to put things 
straight!” 

Helen colored and turned her head, because she 
knew the remark was justified. Harry had indulged 
his selfish ambition; he had not thought about the 
others’ risk and when the reckoning came he stole 
away. Bob had stayed and with splendid pluck was 



256 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


carrying the load his partner threw down. The 
contrast was poignant, but Helen wanted to concen¬ 
trate on the argument and she tried for calm. 

“If you claim Maxwell cheated you, the civil 
courts will weigh your claim,” said Inglis in a quiet 
voice. “Maxwell didn’t shoot a man. I don’t know 
yet if Caverhill did and I want to find out. I’m not 
a lawyer, boys, but the Government you elected has 
called me for a magistrate, and all good citizens will 
help me use the power I’ve got. Anyhow, I don’t 
stand for back talk.” 

A number indicated agreement and Inglis turned 
to Smith. 

“You calculated to bluff Caverhill?” 

“It was not a bluff,” said Smith. “We had 
Caverhill cinched. Wilmot fixed things so’s he 
could stop the boys at the flume. He allowed 
when he put it like that to Caverhill, Bob would 
come in.” 

Another man stood up. “I want to state the 
blasted crooks made trouble at the flume. They got 
some slobs to join them and calculated they could 
hold up the job, but they didn’t get the rancher 
gang. Why, I reckon we’d have put the wastrels 
in the dam!” 

“Yet you admit they had some support?” 

“That is so,” said the other and sat down. 

Smith smiled, a malicious smile. “It certainly is 
so. Wilmot knew the support was pretty good. He 


THE INQUIRY 257 

started for the ranch to put the screw on Caverhill; 
but he didn't get there ” 

“When did he start for the ranch ?” 

For a few moments after Smith replied Inglis 
pondered and Helen waited with keen suspense. 
Inglis was keener than she had thought and she 
knew he was disturbed. He liked Bob, but he knew 
his duty and was just. She admitted that all Inglis 
had so far found out indicated that Bob had shot 
his unscrupulous antagonist. Wilmot had some 
grounds to want revenge and imagined he could ex¬ 
tort money. Had Bob shot the fellow, Helen would 
almost have thought the shooting justified; but Bob 
declared he had not and all he said went. 

She glanced at Bob. His look was calm and 
rather inscrutable. The crowd was very quiet. One 
heard the rain and the wind in the pines behind the 
hotel. Then Grant threw some cordwood into the 
red stove and Inglis called for the barkeeper. 

“You carried Ellmer’s note to Caverhill. What 
did he reply ?” 

“He said he’d watch out.” 

“That was all ?” 

“That was all,” said Pete and went back quietly, 
but Helen imagined he was conscious of some re¬ 
lief. 

Inglis called the policeman. “You searched the 
ground about the spot where Bill found Wilmot.” 

“That is so,” said Grant. “I saw a track in the 


258 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


mud and gravel, as if Wilmot was standing in the 
trail when he was hit and somebody had pulled him 
three or four yards into the bushes; Bill allowed 
his jacket was over his head. Then I found an 
empty pistol shell. The fouling on the brass was 
fresh and the smell of powder pretty strong. The 
shell wasn’t used very long before I picked it up.” 

Inglis took a cartridge and a pistol from the desk. 
He turned the cylinder and pushed in the cartridge. 

'Tits the gun,” he remarked. "What happened 
when you went to the ranch ?” 

Grant narrated Helen’s stealing into the office and 
tearing the note. His look was sober and his voice 
was quiet. Inglis called Ellmer and gave him the 
torn paper. 

"Is this the note you sent Caverhill?” 

"Looks like it,” Ellmer admitted. "I guess you 
know my hand.” 

"Very well. Go on, constable.” 

Grant narrated his finding a pistol on a bureau at 
the ranch and Bob’s admitting it was his. Then he 
took the pistol Inglis gave him and declared it was 
the revolver. Three chambers were loaded, but the 
barrel was clean. When he stopped Ellmer got up. 

"Caverhill has not a lawyer and I claim you ought 
to send the pistol round. Maybe we got somebody 
who knows all about guns.” 

Inglis agreed and when a man stated he had helped 
at a gunsmith’s store, gave him the pistol. 


259 


THE INQUIRY 

“The Connecticut factory’s famous and a number 
of these guns are sold. Some people use the old 
revolver.” 

“You imply the pattern’s common?” 

“Sure! There’s nothing to Caverhill’s owning a 
gun like that. If I went round the settlement, I ex¬ 
pect I’d find two or three,” said the witness, and 
turned to the crowd. “Who has got an old- 
time-? Own up, boys!” 

“I got one,” said a man some distance off. “All 
the same, I can fix it where I was when Wilmot 
went to the ranch.” 

Two or three laughed and Inglis said to the gun¬ 
smith : “A shot would leave some fouling, but Jake 
states the barrel was clean. Can you tell if it was 
recently cleaned?” 

“I doubt it. I’d expect to find fresh oil about the 
rifling grooves and cylinder and maybe some 
powderstain not quite rubbed off. There is none. 
My notion is, the pistol has not been used for some 
time.” 

“Very well,” said Inglis and for a few moments 
knitted his brows. 

People moved to relax cramped muscles, and one 
heard heavy boots scrape the floor, but nobody 
talked and curious glances were fixed on Bob. Bob 
looked straight in front and frowned. At the be¬ 
ginning he had imagined a short inquiry would sat¬ 
isfy Inglis. Now he doubted, although he was 



260 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


rather angry than alarmed. The flume must be 
built and all got ready for the mill, but he was a 
prisoner and his workmen loafed about the court. 
The people were fools to bother him; he was trying 
to help and did not know another who could save the 
settlement. Then Inglis began to talk. 

“My business is not to fix up a case for the police, 
Mr. Caverhill, and if you imagine you can convince 
me I ought to let you go, you’re entitled to try. But 
since you haven’t got a lawyer you want to use some 
caution, and if you go on the stand, you must an¬ 
swer all I ask.” 

Bob got up and looked about the room. His 
glance was scornful and Helen was disturbed be¬ 
cause she knew Bob’s pride. If he thought the 
others doubted him, he would not argue. He would 
be frank and she thought his frankness would not 
help. She wanted to signal him, but he did not look 
at her. 

“After I got Ellmer’s note I started for the 
flume,” he said. 

“How long after?” 

“I reckon it was about twenty minutes,” said Bob, 
and Helen wondered whether he saw he had ad¬ 
mitted it was possible for him to meet Wilmot. 

“Did you carry your pistol?” 

“I did,” said Bob. “For a time I kept the wagon 
trail and then I took a path I’d chopped through the 
brush. I met nobody and heard nothing. At the 


261 


THE INQUIRY 

flume I tried to settle a dispute and stayed about an 
hour. The boys to whom I talked are in court. 
Perhaps they’ll state when I arrived and when I 
left.” 

One or two did so and on the whole agreed. 

“When I had put things straight I started for 
home,” Bob resumed. “I met nobody on the trail. 
At the ranch I went to my office, put the pistol on 
the bureau, and got busy with some plans. After 
about an hour I went to bed-” 

He stopped and people began to stretch their legs 
and move their bodies. A number were obviously 
not satisfied with his narrative, and he saw his 
friends thought he ought not to have gone on the 
stand. Helen’s head was bent, but she looked up 
and gave him a proud glance. He felt that although 
she might have urged him to take another line, she 
approved the line he took. 

Helen did approve. Bob’s frankness and scorn 
for the risk he ran were rather fine, but she was 
anxious. The risk was worse than he perhaps 
thought and sometimes to indulge one’s pride was 
rash. Then the crowd began to whisper and Inglis 
beat on his desk. 

“So far as I could fix it, you have got a square 
deal, Caverhill, and I expect your neighbors agree I 
wouldn’t be justified to let you go. My duty is to 
send you for trial at the proper court and in half an 
hour you’ll start for Whitewood. That’s all. The 



262 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

court is closed and Mr. Ellmer can resume his busi¬ 
ness.” 

For the most part, the men went out quietly, but 
a few stopped and sympathized with Bob until 
Inglis sent them off. Grant went for a wagon, and 
Helen, sitting by Bob, held his arm. Somehow she 
could not talk and he was quiet. 

Half an hour afterward she and Mrs. Duff went 
to the hotel veranda. The sidewalk in front was 
crowded and when a wagon stopped at the steps 
Bob got in. Grant, balancing a shotgun, occupied 
the back rail. Bob gave Helen a smile and then 
looked straight in front. The teamster used the 
whip, the horses plunged and the wagon rolled away. 
Helen’s skin burned and for a few moments she 
trembled with anger. Then she got very cold, and 
seizing Mrs. Duff’s arm, she started for the ranch. 

Ellmer went to the bar and at the door heard a 
bottle crash. Pushing through the crowd, he saw 
Pete wipe a pool of liquor from the boards. 

“Club whisky! We don’t get rich like that; but 
it’s the first time I’ve known you break my glass,” 
he said. 

“The boys were pushing and crowded me. Guess 
I got rattled,” Pete replied. 


XXVII 


HELEN TAKES CHARGE 

T T ELEN, mounted on the best horse at the ranch, 
** -*■ rode along the muddy street. She wore ex¬ 
pensive furs, Bob’s recent gift, and two big bush- 
men rode behind her like grooms, but her face was 
pinched and she looked drearily about. 

The street was torn by wheels and in places a rude 
plank sidewalk went along the front of the small 
frame houses. The houses were not beautiful and, 
although new, wore the stamp of poverty. None 
was painted and the unseasoned boards were 
cracked. One or two, more ambitious than the 
others, were not finished, and it looked as if the tall 
skeleton frames stood for vanished hopes. Helen 
thought it was so; the rash experiment had broken 
the builders. 

Between the blocks were vacant lots. Some were 
covered by giant logs. The branches were gone and 
the trunks were black, as if somebody had begun to 
burn the slashing and then had stopped. Others 
were covered by ashes, domestic rubbish and old 
meat cans. In the background, tall rampikes stood 
like pillars, and their charred surface, wet by rain, 
shone in the dull light. 


263 


264 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Groups of men loafed moodily about the corners 
of the blocks, and a few women, who had heard the 
beat of horses’ feet, went to the doors. Some gave 
Helen a sympathetic look; one or two noted her ex¬ 
pensive clothes and frowned, but for the most part 
she thought them slack and spiritless. In front of 
the hotel Helen got down and called a ranch hand to 
hold her horse. Ellmer was not about, but a ser¬ 
vant stated he would soon return and Helen leaned 
against the veranda railing. She shrank from wait¬ 
ing in the room Inglis had used for his court. 

For a few minutes Ellmer did not arrive and 
Helen mused. She felt the settlement was dying; 
the optimistic confidence that had given it life and 
power to grow was gone. Unless she could help, 
Helensville would perish, like other settlements 
whose ruins were hidden by the woods of the Pa¬ 
cific slope. She must try to help, but she knew her 
plan was rash and in the meantime she let it go. 

She felt she hated Helensville. The settlement 
had broken Harry and now it was breaking Bob. 
All the same, she resolved to use some effort and she 
tried to be just. At the beginning, Harry’s object 
was good, but she had begun to see his temperament 
accounted for much. Although he had talent, his 
weaknesses were marked. He had indulged his bold 
imagination, but he was not the stuff to bear a heavy 
strain. Yet, if the settlement, after all, went ahead, 


HELEN TAKES CHARGE 265 


its progress, in a sense, would justify Harry’s rash 
experiment. Besides, it would justify Helen. 

Helen blushed, for she knew when she married 
Bob, her ambition, like her brother’s was unscrupu¬ 
lous. Bob was very just. He claimed nothing that 
was not his and she had thought to cheat him. She 
knew herself a shabby adventuress. All she had got 
Bob gave her and he had given much, but she had 
not wanted his trust and love. She had wanted 
money and, for sometimes she was romantic, she 
wanted to rule at the big ranch. 

The ranch was romantic. In the woods modern 
business methods did not go. Bob was boss because 
his strength and pluck entitled him to command. 
All he asked from others he himself did and where 
a risk must be faced he went first. His men knew 
his qualities and trusted him. In fact, Bob was 
rather like the chief of an old Highland clan. 

Helen admitted that she had ruled like a chief’s 
wife. Her word went and, for her husband’s sake, 
his men were stanchly hers. She rode a good horse, 
her furs were the best a famous house could supply, 
and two splendid athletic bushmen were her grooms* 
She owed Bob all and she meant to pay. Not long 
since she was her brother’s champion; now she was, 
her husband’s. 

Ellmer came up the steps and gave Helen a 
thoughtful glance. Mrs. Caverhill was a “looker” 


266 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


and he thought he knew good clothes. Then he had 
noted the ranch hands waiting by her horse. 

“Perhaps you can give me a minute or two,” she 
said. “I imagine you know my husband did not 
shoot Wilmot ?” 

“Sure! I don’t yet know who did shoot Wilmot, 
but it wasn’t Mr. Caverhill.” 

“Thank you,” said Helen. “Do you think the 
;people at the settlement agree?” 

JEllmer saw her calm was forced, but he knew her 
pluck. She had an object for her inquiry, and on 
the whole he thought to keep things back would 
not help. 

“Your husband got a fair show and you saw how 
the trial went! My notion is, the boys argue like 
this: Bob would not kill Wilmot unless he was 
forced, but perhaps he was forced. Wilmot was 
savage and pretty drunk. He’d lost all his wad and 
reckoned he could get some money from Bob. Bob 
was keen about clearing the factory site and building 
the flume, but the workmen made trouble. He 
wouldn’t stand for Wilmot’s bluff that he’d hold up 
the job. Wilmot got mad and tried to pull his gun; 
Bob did pull his-” 

“It looks plausible,” Helen remarked. “Do you 
think the jury at the proper trial would argue like 
the others?” 

“Do you really want to know, Mrs. Caverhill ?” 



HELEN TAKES CHARGE 


267 


“I must know,” said Helen quietly. 

“Very well! If Bob allowed he shot Wilmot be¬ 
cause Wilmot was going to shoot him, the argument 
would carry weight; but I guess Bob won’t use it. 
In my home town across the frontier, he’d get off 
anyhow. In British Columbia, I doubt. He’s up 
against British tradition and your folks haven’t 
much use for romantic justice. They go by the 
law and the law won’t stand for gun-pulling.” 

“Ah,” said Helen in a trembling voice, “I imagined 
something like that! But suppose the trial were put 
off? Do you think we could find out who did use 
the gun?” 

“I’m going to try,” said Ellmer grimly. “But 
since the trial might be soon, we must find out 
quick.” 

Helen gave him a searching glance. “Whitewood 
is not an important settlement?” 

“A small place, Mrs. Caverhill; two or three 
stores, a hotel, and a row of log houses, but White- 
wood is old and they have got a jail. When the 
Caribou diggings played out, miners located in the 
valley. They got some gold and broke a trail by 
Shadow Lake to the coast. It’s long since and the 
gold is gone, but there are some ranches in the 
neighborhood and a pretty good trail goes to the 
railroad. Inglis doesn’t yet know where the police 
will fix Bob’s trial.” 


268 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

“I suppose Grant took Bob to Whitewood by the 
old miners’ trail? It goes round by the foot of the 
mountain, does it not?” 

Ellmer was puzzled, but he imagined Helen had a 
plan, and he replied: “Jake was bothered to make it 
with his wagon. The trail’s not much used and is 
broken in places. He reckoned he’d have got through 
sooner if he’d hired saddle horses and pushed across 
the Gap. The bench country’s stony and the tim¬ 
ber isn’t thick. A Whitewood man who rode across 
started at sun-up and was at my house in the eve¬ 
ning.” 

“Thank you,” said Helen. “Since speed’s im¬ 
portant, I must try the Gap, but I will start in the 
dark.” 

Ellmer looked hard at her and knitted his brows. 
“I’m not your sort, Mrs. Caverhill, and I guess you 
didn’t like Coral’s marrying your brother; but I’m 
Bob’s friend. You can trust me.” 

“I meant to trust you, and since the evening Coral 
resolved to go with Harry I have wondered whether 
I was not unjust,” Helen replied and looked about. 
Then she advanced a few steps and began to talk in 
a low voice. 

“You’ve got it!” said Ellmer. “Although I see 
some drawbacks, the plan might work. Well, I 
can’t go with you; Inglis is not a fool and we 
mustn’t put him wise. All the same, I’ll get you a 
man who knows the hills and I might fix it to run 


HELEN TAKES CHARGE 


269 


Bob across to Idaho—I’ve got some useful friends 
at the frontier. We want time and when Bob is 
across we can look for the proper man. But you 
haven’t seen the boys.” 

Helen’s eyes sparkled and she gave him her hand. 
“I expected your help and I’m now going to per¬ 
suade the boys. When I have done so we’ll talk 
about it again.” 

Ellmer let her go. He thought he saw why she 
wore her handsome furs, and when she got on the 
splendid horse and rode along the street in front 
of the big ranch hands he admitted that for Mrs. 
Caverhill to carry away her husband’s workmen 
ought not to be hard. He noted her fine balance 
and stamp of pride; her beauty and her courage 
moved him. 

“She’s all a looker and something of a queen,” he 
said. 

At the factory site Helen stopped her horse and 
signaled the foreman. 

“I want you to call Mr. Caverhill’s friends, Wat¬ 
son ; the ranchers who have been with him from the 
beginning, not the other lot.” 

Watson was surprised, but he remarked a note 
of command in Helen’s voice and he went off and 
returned with a number of men. Helen did not get 
down. She had something of Maxwell’s talent for 
persuading people and knew where a touch of theat¬ 
ricalness helped. She soothed the impatient horse 


270 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


and then, sitting very straight and quiet, faced the 
men. The ranch hands, two or three yards in front 
of her, were like statues, and the dark woods were a 
proper background for the group. 

“I expect you agree that my husband gave you a 
square deal?” she said. “Your pay and food were 
good, and where the work was dangerous he let you 
do nothing he did not do.” 

“That is so. Bob Caverhill’s the sort of boss we 
like,” one declared. 

“Very well! I expect you know if he goes to 
prison, the settlement will go down?” 

“It looks like that,” another agreed. “If Wilmot 
hadn’t butted in, I guess Bob would have made 
good. We know Bob; he’s not a quitter.” 

“Ah,” said Helen, “I doubt if you do yet know 
Bob! For example, you don’t know he mortgaged 
the ranch and homestead, in order to get the money 
he needed for the settlement.” 

“We didn’t know,” one admitted and turned to 
the others. “Say, he’s a great fellow, Caverhill!” 

Helen saw she had moved them and she resumed: 
“Do you think it possible for my husband to shoot 
Wilmot ?” • 

They hesitated and one said, “We reckon if he 
did shoot Wilmot, the fellow ought to have got 
shot.” 

His frankness disturbed Helen. Ellmer had 


HELEN TAKES CHARGE 


271 


stated Bob’s friends and the jury who tried him 
would argue like that, but romantic justice was not 
the rule in Canada. Well, Bob must not be tried. 

“But Bob did not shoot him. He declared he 
did not, and his word goes.” 

“That is so,” said Watson. “I’ve known Bob 
for a long time and I’d bet my wad on all he states.” 

“Thank you,” said Helen and hesitated, for to 
take the line she meant to take was hard. Yet she 
saw she must not shrink. Although the men trusted 
Bob, they had not much grounds to trust her. 

“Perhaps you have just claims against my brother; 
but my husband is nearer than my brother, and for 
Bob to feel he is accountable hurts worst. In a 
sense, he is accountable, because he allowed his 
partner to cheat him. Well, he was resolved to put 
all straight, and you agree, if Wilmot had not med¬ 
dled, he might have done so, but another could not. 
I, however, want you to be satisfied he had nothing 
to do with shooting Wilmot. It’s important-” 

“The boys are satisfied,” Watson remarked sooth- 
ingly. 

“It’s very important,” Helen resumed. “Since 
Bob had nothing to do with the shooting, we must 
put off the trial and find the proper man. If the 
police let Bob go, he will save the settlement.” 

“But you can’t put off the trial,” said one. 

“If you are stanch, as I think you, and your nerve 



272 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


is good, it’s not impossible, and I mean to try. I 
am going to break Bob’s prison and friends will then 
help him across the frontier. I want six good men. 
Who goes with me?” 

For a few moments they looked at Helen with 
surprise. The plan was bold, for in British Colum¬ 
bia to break a prison is a rash exploit. Moreover, 
one or two had doubted if she much loved Caver- 
hill. Then they began to talk in low voices and 
Helen waited. Her heart beat, but she gently 
soothed her impatient horse, until Watson looked 
up. 

“They’re all willing, Mrs. Caverhill!” 

“I want six,” said Helen. “Bob’s ranch boys are 
going and I don’t know about horses. When it gets 
dark send six men to the homestead as quietly as 
possible, Mr. Watson.” 

“The boys will be there.” 

“Thank you all,” said Helen in a trembling voice, 
and motioning to the ranch hands, turned her horse. 


XXVIII 


THE JAIL-BREAKERS 

A COLD wind wailed in the pine-tops, dark 
branches tossed and big drops fell. Torn 
clouds rolled across the sky and hid the moon. The 
uneven trail was wet, and Helen, stealing through 
the gloom, heard the Whitewood creek brawl in the 
woods. In front a row of small houses faintly cut 
the dark background. 

Helen was tired. To push through the timber 
on the broken hill benches was a strenuous under¬ 
taking, and she had crossed treacherous rocks where 
she had not thought a horse could go. Sometimes 
she was forced to get down, and her long boots 
were muddy and her clothes were torn. Moreover, 
if her plan worked, she must face another long and 
awkward ride. 

But fatigue was easier to bear than the suspense 
she had known when she waited in the woods for 
dark. All was flat and dreary, cold rain fell, and 
the fire Watson lighted would not burn. The men 
were sternly quiet and Helen dared not urge them 
to push on, because it was obvious they must not 

reach Whitewood until the settlers had gone to bed. 

273 


274 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

Now she had arrived, the adventure frankly daunted 
her. 

All she heard was the turmoil of the creek, and 
the moon was gone. The houses were mysterious 
blocks, vaguely outlined against the gloom, but at 
the other end of the street a dim light burned in a 
window. Watson had sent two men in front; two 
or three guarded the horses in the bush, and four 
were with Helen. The foreman waited for a signal 
that his party might advance. 

The moon shone out and silver light touched the 
wet street, the high sidewalk and the houses’ fronts. 
A dark figure cut the pale illumination, waved an 
arm and melted in the gloom on the other side. 

“Get on with it,” said Watson, and the men went 
forward. 

They were in the dark and moved noiselessly. A 
bushman lifts his feet high and treads like a cat. 
Helen was light and a graceful dancer, but her 
boots disturbed the gravel and when she stumbled in 
muddy holes she thought the noise she made carried 
far. Watson, however, said nothing and the men 
pushed on. 

By and by Watson motioned and two stopped. 
They carried rifles and their part was to command 
the street; the two in front, if necessary, would 
block the other end. Since it was obvious the party 
must rather depend on speed and silence than on 
force, Helen imagined the rifles, so to speak, were 


THE JAIL-BREAKERS 


275 


stage properties; but she did not know. If the set¬ 
tlers were disturbed, they might get axes and shot¬ 
guns and try to seize the party. She dared not think 
about it, and she concentrated on following Watson 
as quietly as possible. 

A' dog began to bark and the foreman stopped. 
Near the other end of the street a noise indicated 
that somebody opened a door. Helen heard steps 
on the plank sidewalk and imagined the man came 
from the house where the light burned. He called 
to the dog, the door shut and all was quiet. Then 
the moon went behind a cloud and Watson cau¬ 
tiously advanced. 

The row of small houses was not continuous. 
Garden lots broke the line and some of the gaps 
were wide. Helen saw indistinct pines and naked 
fruit tree branches. The settlement’s straggling 
had drawbacks, because it forced the party to push 
on for some distance from the horses, and Helen 
imagined her going embarrassed the men. In fact, 
Watson had grumbled, but she was resolute. For 
her to wait by the horses and let others set Bob free 
was unthinkable. Yet she admitted that the under¬ 
taking looked ridiculous. The prison-breakers’ 
tools were an ax and a mining drill. 

The undertaking was not altogether ridiculous. 
For the most part, the occupants of the small bush 
settlements are an orderly, industrious lot, and the 
constable’s post is given, rather like a pension, to a 


276 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

deserving citizen who begins to get too old for 
strenuous labor. Moreover, when the Provincial 
Government makes an appropriation for a school or 
jail, the settlers put up the building and the architect 
is the village carpenter. 

By and by a man in front of Watson stopped and 
Helen saw a small house in some trees across the 
street. 

“We’ve got there!” the man remarked in a low 
voice. “Policeman Tom lives on top. The jail’s 
on the ground floor at the back.” 

“When you’re fixed we’ll get busy,” said Watson. 
“Come across with us, Mrs. Caverhill, and stand 
against the wall. Stand still.” 

The others put on masks, cut from cotton flour 
bags. Helen wore a small fur cap and a long 
slicker, and looked like a man. The party crossed 
the street and stopped in front of the house. Wat¬ 
son gently shook the door and indicated a spot. 

“Bolt’s there. Get going, Sandy!” 

Sandy forced the point of a miner’s drill into the 
crack and pulled at the bar. The door groaned and 
rattled, but did not break, and Sandy stopped. 

“I can’t move her.” 

Watson seized the drill and bent his muscular 
body. Steel clashed on iron, thick timber cracked, 
and Helen, for a moment, turned her head and 
looked about. Opposite the house was an orchard 
and the moon was behind a cloud. So far as she 


THE JAIL-BREAKERS 


277 


could see, the noise had not disturbed the settlers. 
Then she thought she heard steps in the house, and 
Watson said, “Get to it. She’s going!” 

The door went back against the wall and Helen 
saw a short staircase like a ladder. A man carrying 
a lamp and a shotgun came down the steps. He 
wore a rubber coat, but his feet and legs were bare. 
He was not young and his dull look indicated that 
he was not yet properly awake. Then Watson 
threw his rolled-up slicker and the light went out. 
The lamp crashed and the gun rattled on the stairs. 
A noise in the dark indicated a struggle, and some¬ 
body pulled Helen into the house and shut the broken 
door. She trembled and waited, until after a few 
moments a man lighted a lantern. 

The policeman was on the floor. Watson’s slicker 
was round his head and his bare legs stuck out 
ridiculously from his rubber coat. He gasped and 
wriggled, but two big choppers held him down. 

“Where’s your keys?” Watson inquired. 

The policeman said nothing. Although he was 
not young, his pluck was good, for he kicked sav¬ 
agely and a chopper fell against the wall. The fel¬ 
low looked at the struggling policeman with angry 
surprise and set his mouth tight, as if he knew he 
must not swear. Watson jumped forward and put 
his knee on the captive’s chest. 

“Nobody wants to hurt you, but if you shout, 
we’ll sock it to you good,” he said. “Guess I can 


278 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

hold him, Sandy. Get your drill and open Caver- 
hill’s door.” 

He and another tied up the policeman, and Sandy 
braced the drill against a door along the short pas¬ 
sage and used the post for a fulcrum. The lock 
broke, Sandy put his shoulder to the boards, and 
Watson brought the light. The door swung back 
and Bob quietly advanced. He had put on some 
clothes and his look was calm. 

“Get your boots,” said Watson. “The police¬ 
man’s tied up. So far, our luck’s been pretty good, 
but we want to pull out.” 

Bob faced the group and smiled. Helen had 
thought to run forward, but his strange coolness 
baffled her. 

“You have taken some chances and I thank you, 
boys,” he said. “All the same, I’m not going.” 

“You’re not going?” said Watson in an angry 
voice. “Why, a horse is waiting and Ellmer has 
fixed it to help you across the frontier.” 

Bob shook his head. “I can’t go, Jake. You 
ought to see-” 

“I sure don’t see,” Watson declared. “Perhaps 
Mrs. Caverhill will persuade you. Don’t you know 
your wife?” 

Bob had not known Helen. The light was not 
good and she wore a man’s coat, but when she ad¬ 
vanced hesitatingly he jumped forward and took 
her in his arms. 



THE JAIL-BREAKERS 


279 


“Maybe we can risk waiting for a minute or 
two,” said Watson, who put down the light and 
pushed the others from the room. 

Bob kissed Helen and fetching a chair for her, 
leaned against the wall. A thick wooden shutter 
covered the window and all was quiet outside. For 
a moment or two they did not talk, but Bob was 
strongly moved. Helen had come to set him free, 
and when Inglis took him from the ranch he knew 
her reserve was altogether gone. In fact, he had 
begun to think it went when he was ill, but her trust 
in Maxwell was not yet broken and when he got 
better he was absorbed by business cares. Perhaps 
but for Maxwell she would have been satisfied with 
him before. Now, however, his part was to think 
for Plelen. 

“You and the boys are very rash,” he said. “Al¬ 
though Pve longed for you, and Fd like you to 
stay, if it was only for a few minutes, I’m forced to 
send you off.” 

“Oh, Bob, you mustn’t be obstinate!” Helen re¬ 
plied in a trembling voice. “A horse and a man 
who knows the mountains are waiting. Ellmer’s 
friends at Hope will help you to cross the frontier, 
and at Spokane-” 

“But I can’t go to Spokane,” Bob said quietly. 

“You must go,” Helen urged. “I know, and your 
friends know, you did not shoot Wilmot, but some 
people doubt and the risk you run is worse than 



280 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


you think. Besides, Ellmer and I mean to find the 
proper man. Ellmer’s persuaded we can find him, 
and if we put off the trial-” 

“No,” said Bob firmly. “I hate to dispute about 
it. Your pluck and nerve are very fine; I want to 
indulge you and I want my freedom, but if I ran 
away, my going would satisfy the police I was the 
proper man. Then I doubt if I could cross the 
mountains to Hope, and a horse could not. 
Anyhow, if I did get across the frontier, I 
dare not come back and Helensville would go 
down.” 

“You mustn't think about Helensville.” 

“I am forced to think. Helensville is called for 
you; your brother founded the settlement, and since 
I was his partner, I must carry out his agrements. 
For your sake and my sake, I want to make good. 
I can’t loaf about the United States and let the folks 
who trusted me go broke.” 

“Ah,” said Helen, “you’re very noble, Bob, but 
I’d sooner you were selfish. When we find out who 
did shoot Wilmot, you could come back from 
America.” 

“You might not find out for long and it looks as 
if I must stand my trial. The police have not much 
to go on; I think the court will let me off.” 

Helen’s face got white and she trembled. “The 
jury would not know you, Bob. You must not run 
the dreadful risk.” 



THE JAIL-BREAKERS 281 

Bob crossed the floor and sitting on the table, put 
his arm round Helen. 

“I don’t see another plan and you must not exag¬ 
gerate. The jury will not be my antagonists, and 
if they have grounds to think I shot Wilmot, the 
grounds, to some extent, will indicate that I was 
forced to shoot. The boys who take the stand will 
state that Wilmot was drunk and carried a pistol, 
meant to extort money, and had another time de¬ 
clared he’d kill me-” 

He stopped for a moment and resumed with 
forced calm: “My case is pretty good, and if the 
court decides the shot was mine, the worst I expect 
is, I might be sent for a time to a penitentiary.” 

Helen shivered and seized his hand, as if she 
dared not let him go. “Oh, my dear! You are very 
brave, but you are flesh and blood. The humiliation 
would break you. But, for my sake, you must 
come away. Helensville is not important; money’s 
not important. When I married you I was poor 
and to be poor again would not hurt. Start for the 
frontier and when you get across I will join you. 
You will find an occupation and in America our 
luck will turn.” 

“The plan won’t work,” said Bob with gentle 
firmness. “I might perhaps cheat the American 
police, because to get after a Canadian offender is 
not their business, but all the time you’d be anxious. 
I’d know I was disgraced and done for, and at 



282 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Helensville they’d hate us for a cruel frame-up. 
You didn’t marry a lurking gun-man and I must 
stand my trial. The chances are even I get off-” 

Watson came to the door. '‘Are you ready, boss ? 
We must start.” 

“I am not going. Mrs. Caverhill will put you 
wise about it. I want you to thank the boys.” 

Watson shrugged resignedly and Bob gently 
lifted Helen to her feet. She put her arms round 
him and said in a broken voice, “Oh, my dear! My 
dear!” 

Then she turned and went out slackly after the 
foreman. For a moment or two Bob leaned against 
the table. He had borne all he could bear. He 
heard Watson go along the passage and timber 
crack when somebody opened the door. Then the 
men’s boots rattled on the gravel, the cautious steps 
got farther off, and died away. 

Bob braced up, and going to the passage, put the 
light on the stairs and pulled the coat from the 
policeman’s head. The other gave him a surprised 
glance. 

“You’re not gone?” 

“I don’t know if I am going,” Bob replied, and 
smiled. “For a jailer you’re a pretty good sort. I 
don’t want to leave you, and if I did light out, you’d 
get fired.” 

“Quit guying and let me up.” 

“To begin with, I think I’ll shut the door. White- 



THE JAIL-BREAKERS 


283 


wood folk sleep pretty hard, but somebody might 
see the light. If you shout, you’ll force me to choke 
you.” 

The other struggled, but the rope was good and 
Bob shut the door and resumed: “My friends have 
got horses and in a minute or two they’ll hit the 
trail for the woods. I want you to weigh this, and 
then we’ll go ahead. At Whitewood a policeman’s 
job is soft and I expect you want to hold yours.” 

Although the policeman said nothing, his look 
was thoughtful and Bob imagined he agreed. 

“Very well! If you’re forced to own you let your 
prisoner go, you won’t hold your job for long, and 
I don’t see that you’d get much by putting the 
Whitewood boys on my friends’ track. It looks as 
if nobody knew what they were about. Do you 
want folks to know?” 

“So long as you don’t beat it after the other 
lot-” said the policeman, and hesitated. 

“If you take the proper line, I’m willing to stay,” 
said Bob. “There’s another thing. Since the boys 
found I wouldn’t go, they won’t come back.” 

“You can let me up,” the other replied. “I won’t 
talk.” 

Bob untied him and he held up the light. 

“What are we going to do about the door?” 

“It’s awkward,” Bob admitted. “Still, if you can 
get me a saw and a few screws in the morning, I 
think I could put all straight.” 



284 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

t 

“Nothing’s doing,” the policeman remarked. 
“The boys aren’t particularly humorous, but some¬ 
body might see the joke.” 

“Oh, well, the door’s not much battered; the fas¬ 
tenings are torn out,” said Bob. “Perhaps you can 
fix it before folks get up. I’m going back to bed.” 

He got into the bunk against the wall and for a 
time pictured Helen’s climbing the mountain trail. 
He was moved by keen emotion and sometimes he 
clenched his hands, but the strain he had borne was 
heavy and a reaction began. By and by the dis¬ 
turbing picture melted and he went to sleep. 


XXIX 


THE PUZZLE SOLVED 

T T ELEN’S return to Shadow Lake was dreary. 

*■* The hope that had buoyed her when she 
started was gone and she was worn by fatigue. In 
places she was forced to walk and let Watson drag 
her horse up precipitous stony slopes; in places the 
ranch hands used their axes to break a trail. It 
rained and her clothes were wet, but for the most 
part she was hardly conscious of the cold and the 
muscular strain. Her exploit had gone for nothing, 
she was beaten, and she dared not speculate about 
the consequences of Bob’s obstinacy. She took no 
thought for herself, and pushing on with mechanical 
effort, did not notice the dangers Watson steered 
her past. 

When they went down by the edge of a deep 
gully her horse stumbled and the stones its feet dis¬ 
turbed plunged into the chasm. For a moment 
Helen thought the horse was going down, and then 
Watson seized the bridle. He pulled her to firm 
ground and faced her angrily. 

“I agreed to see you safe back at the ranch, Mrs. 
Caverhill, and there’s another thing. When you 

called the boys they came along, but you’re not 

285 


286 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


pining for folks to know we went to break the jail, 
and we want to make the settlement before Inglis 
wonders where we are. Well, if I must watch out 
for you, we can’t hit up the pace.” 

“Have I kept you back much?” Helen asked. 

“You have got me scared, ma’am. You take 
chances you didn’t ought to take. I reckoned you 
were going down the gulch.” 

Helen’s face got red, but she smiled. 

“Did you imagine I was willing to go down the 
gulch? I was not; I was brooding and didn’t see 
where I went. However, I must try not to frighten 
you again.” 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Caverhill,” said Watson, and 
his look was rather embarrassed. “You want to 
brace up. The police haven’t got much on Bob and 
I reckon the jury will let him off. All the same, we 
must beat Inglis to it and get through quick.” 

Helen started her horse and said nothing. When 
she reached the settlement she went to the hotel and 
Ellmer took her to his office. Sometimes she 
thought it strange, but she trusted the saloon-keeper 
and reckoned on his help. When she had narrated 
her adventures he pondered. 

“I don’t know but Bob’s staying might count for 
a lot,” he said. “In the meantime Inglis is at Vic¬ 
toria. The mail arrived soon after you you pulled 
out and he started for the landing. I guess he 
doesn’t know the boys and you left the settlement, 


THE PUZZLE SOLVED 


287 


and if nobody spotted the gang, I expect Bob will 
persuade the Whitewood policeman not to talk. 
Anyhow, if the trial comes off, we’ll put Watson on 
the stand to state he broke the jail but Bob wouldn’t 
go. The argument is: if he was guilty, he’d cer¬ 
tainly have quit.” 

“We cannot stop the trial,” said Helen, in a 
dreary voice. 

“It’s not yet fixed,” Ellmer rejoined. “Duff has 
got busy in town and I understand he’s engaged an 
American detective. I’m studying up the boys. 
The man we want is in the settlement and somehow 
I feel we can hit his trail.” 

For a few moments Helen brooded and Ellmer 
noticed her tired and daunted look. Her face was 
pinched and her glance was dull. Then she got up 
languidly. 

“You are kind. At the beginning I’m sorry I 
was not,” she said. “Well, we must hope, and try 
to be confident; but confidence is hard.” 

Ellmer let her go and in the evening Pete came 
to his desk. 

“You want to get another barkeep; I’m going to 
quit.” 

“Is that so?” said Ellmer and gave him a care¬ 
less glance. “Well, you’re a useful man and I only 
once knew you break my bottles. Why do you 
want to quit?” 

Pete’s look was inscrutable. As a rule, he was 


288 THE BUSH-RANCHER 

very sober, and when he smiled his smile was grim. 

“There’s nothing to serving drinks at a dead-beat 
settlement and I don’t like it in the woods. I want 
a job that leads somewhere and I been reckoning 
up a proposition I got last mail.” 

“When d’you think of going?” 

“At sun-up,” said Pete coolly. “A steamboat’s 
coming across with some truck for Caverhill, and if 
I pull out at daybreak I can get on board. Since I 
ought to put you wise before, you can keep the pay 
I haven’t drawn.” 

Ellmer pondered. He knew Pete, and if the 
fellow had grounds for going, on the whole he 
imagined he himself ought not to meddle. Nothing, 
however, indicated that Pete was keen to start. He 
leaned against the desk as if he were bored. Then 
Ellmer pulled out some paper money. 

“That’s yours and I wish you luck. You are a 
good bartender and I think you’re a white man. It 
means something, Pete. Don’t forget it!” 

“Thank you, boss,” said the other in a quiet voice. 
“I’d like to stay with you, but when I weigh up 
things I see I better quit.” 

He went off to get his clothes and Ellmer went to 
the bar. His look was thoughtful, but he felt he 
had taken the proper line. In the morning he en¬ 
gaged a bankrupt settler to carry out Pete’s duties 
and resolved to say nothing to Mrs. Caverhill. To 
know Inglis was at Victoria was some satisfaction. 


THE PUZZLE SOLVED 


289 


For nearly two weeks Helen waited in torment¬ 
ing suspense. She did not know if Bob’s trial was 
yet fixed, the American detective had not arrived 
and it looked as if Ellmer had not found a clew. 
She could not sleep and there was no use in trying 
to occupy herself about the homestead. Moreover, 
the ranch was mortgaged and Bob could not pay the 
debt. Then, after the magistrate’s inquiry, to hope 
was hard. British law was sternly just and al¬ 
though Bob had not shot Wilmot, Helen admitted 
it looked as if he had done so. 

Bob’s honesty was perhaps the worst obstacle. 
If he were willing to plead he had used a pistol be¬ 
cause Wilmot had first drawn his, the argument 
would carry weight; but he was not willing. He 
declared he had not met the fellow, and he would 
stick to his statement. Helen dared not speculate 
about the consequences. 

At length a man on horseback arrived one eve¬ 
ning from the coast. The Maud was at the land¬ 
ing and Inglis and Duff had started for the settle¬ 
ment. The road was now graded at awkward spots, 
but sometimes storms washed out the corduroy 
timbering and Duff’s car was bogged. Its driver 
had given the mounted man the mail and stated that 
he expected to get the car on to firm ground before 
very long. 

Helen wondered whether Duff had some news 
for her or if he had brought the detective, but she 


290 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


must wait until he arrived and she tried for calm. 
The evening was cold and she occupied a chair by 
the big stone fireplace. She had not lighted the 
lamp and reflections from the snapping pine logs 
trembled about the spacious room and touched Bob's 
shining guns. Helen heard the wind in the pines 
and the measured throb of the waterfall. The 
noise jarred and she felt she hated the river. The 
savage cataract had tempted Harry to make his rash 
experiment. He had thought to get cheap power 
from the current and she had persuaded Bob to 
help. 

But she dared not dwell on things like that. She 
had for some time known she loved her husband and 
she loved the quiet woods, the cornfields and the 
homestead that were no longer his. Now all must 
go. In order to make good Harry's reckless prom¬ 
ises Bob had pawned his inheritance. His reward 
was a prison, and she had supported her brother 
and broken her husband. It was unthinkable; but 
she had done so. 

Then Helen heard steps in the passage and got 
up languidly. It looked as if Duff had arrived and 
perhaps he brought some comforting news. She 
went to the lamp, but her hand shook and when 
Ellmer came in she let the match fall. 

“Give me the box,” he said and got a light. 

Then he motioned Helen back to her chair and 
smiled. “You want to steady up, Mrs. Caverhill. 


THE PUZZLE SOLVED 291 

Your nerve’s pretty good, but sometimes to get a 
thing you dare not hope for-” 

The color came to Helen’s skin and vanished. 
She seized the chair for support. 

“Don’t philosophize. What about my hus¬ 
band ?” 

“Bob’s all right! We have got old man Inglis 
beat!” 

Helen turned her head and fought for calm. 
After a moment or two she looked up and saw Ell- 
mer’s smile was triumphant. 

“Bob’s soon coming back. If you get that, we’ll 
wait a while. It’s all that counts.” 

“But I must know-” said Helen in a trem¬ 

bling voice. “You dare not cheat me. Yet some¬ 
how I doubt-” 

Ellmer nodded sympathetically. “Sure! You’re 
all rattled. Sit quiet and let me talk. Well, I got 
my mail half an hour ago, and I sent a message to 
the grocery that will bring Inglis across as soon as 
the car gets through. Duff’s in the car, but we 
have not much use for his detective. When Inglis 
puts the police wise, they won’t hold Bob long.” 

“Then, you have found out who did shoot Wil- 
mot! Who was it?” 

“Pete,” said Ellmer quietly. 

Helen tried to brace up. After the horror she 
had faced, the reaction was poignant, and to con¬ 
centrate on the puzzle was some relief. 





292 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“Your barkeeper? Perhaps it’s strange, but no¬ 
body thought-” 

“I had a sort of notion the shot was Pete’s.” 

“But you let him go!” 

“That’s right. Sometimes you must take 
chances,” said Ellmer coolly. “So long as Pete was 
in Canada, he was subject to British law, but I 
doubt if you’ve got a lawyer who could make him 
talk. All the same, I bet on his being willing to put 
me wise when he crossed the frontier. Pete’s a bad 
man to get up against, but he’s white-” 

He stopped and resumed: “Now we’ll fix Inglis! 
I hear the car!” 

The car stopped and Inglis and Duff came in. 
Helen gave Duff her hand and then turned to the 
magistrate, whose look was apologetic. 

“I got a message from Mr. Ellmer calling me to 
your house,” he said. “Then I thought you ought 
to know the arrangements for your husband’s 
trial-” 

“If Mr. Caverhill is willing, the police are going 
to cut out the trial,” Ellmer remarked. “I called 
you to the ranch because I didn’t want to let you 
down. When you sent up Caverhill you were surely 
not smart, but on the whole I reckon you meant to 
be just.” 

Inglis’s face got red, but he turned to Helen and 
somehow his look was dignified. 

“I am not your husband’s antagonist, Mrs. Caver- 





THE PUZZLE SOLVED 293 

hill. He was a good customer and perhaps my main 
support; but, you see, I am a magistrate.” 

“I do see,” said Helen and smiled. ‘Tor a time 
I think I hated you, but that is done with, and I 
admit you did try to be just. Mr. Ellmer, however, 
is waiting-” 

“We’ll go ahead,” said Ellmer and pulled out an 
envelope. “I want to show Inglis he’d better stop 
the trial. I got a letter and a sworn statement from 
my barkeep, Pete Sanderson. The letter was writ¬ 
ten at a town in Montana and goes: 

“ T want you to put old man Inglis wise about 
Wilmot’s getting shot. Sorry I couldn’t stop him 
sending Caverhill up, but I had to get across the 
frontier before I talked. Now I guess I’m pretty 
safe, because I go out on the first train and I won’t 
state where she’s bound-’ ” 

Ellmer put up the letter. “Pete is pretty safe. 
To put the police on a Canadian gunman’s track is 
not an American notary’s business, and if you want 
to seize a man in the United States for trouble he 
made in Canada, you have got to satisfy an Ameri¬ 
can court. Then, if you got your warrant for his 
arrest, I don’t reckon a Montana sheriff would 
bother much about the job.” 

He stopped for a moment and pulled out a sealed 
document. “Pete sends a statement sworn in the 
presence of a United States notary and two wit¬ 
nesses. He declares: 




294 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“ ‘On the evening of-I carried a note from 

Mr. Ellmer, of the Helensville hotel, British Colum¬ 
bia, to the Caverhill ranch at Shadow Lake. The 
note warned Caverhill that Wilmot was after him. 
Wilmot, some time sooner, had made trouble at the 
bar. He was mad, but not altogether drunk, and 
stated he was going to get money from Caverhill. 
I threw Wilmot into the street and, because I’d cut 
his arm with a bullet another time, I took my old 
revolver. The trail from the Caverhill ranch was 
dark, and when I was coming back Wilmot jumped 
from the brush. I reckoned he had heard my steps 
and thought them Caverhill’s. 

“ ‘Wilmot carried a pistol and shouted for me to 
stop. I didn’t think I could get his gun, so I hit 
him pretty hard and knocked him against a pine. 
Said I wasn’t the man he wanted and I’d put Caver¬ 
hill wise. He knew my voice and went plumb mad. 
Stormed about my helping Maxwell beat it with his 
money. Well, I didn’t want to shoot, but when his 
gun went off I used mine and Wilmot dropped. I 
saw he was all in and dragged him to the brush. 
Then I got his gun and mine and threw them in the 
river. You’ll find them in the pool by the big rock. 
Afterwards I went back to the hotel and said noth¬ 
ing. I reckoned to pull out would put folks on my 
trail, but when Caverhill was sent up I resolved to 
start for the frontier. I claim I was forced to shoot. 
Caverhill knows nothing about it.’ ” 



THE PUZZLE SOLVED 


295 


“That’s all,” said Ellmer. “The statement’s prop¬ 
erly witnessed and stamped by the notary. I guess 
it ought to go.” 

Inglis studied the document and then gave Ellmer 
a searching glance. 

“The thing’s now plain. Did you see it before?” 

“Well,” said Ellmer dryly, “I had a notion. I 
knew you’d get nothing from Pete, but I thought I 
could bet on his playing straight. I reckon he has 
beaten you, and if you did bring him back, the court 
would allow the shooting was justified.” 

“It’s possible,” Inglis admitted in a thoughtful 
voice. “Extradition’s a long and awkward business; 
but that’s for others. I want the document for the 
officers at Victoria.” 

“You can have copies,” said Ellmer, smiling. 
“Until Caverhill is back at Shadow Lake I keep the 
stamped paper. If you’re ready, we’ll start for the 
hotel and you can send your report off by the 
Maud” 

Inglis turned to Helen. “When my letter reaches 
Victoria I expect the police will instruct me to re¬ 
lease Mr. Caverhill; but if they are forced to carry 
on the trial, his getting off is certain. In the mean¬ 
time, I want you to know that to find your husband 
had nothing to do with the shooting gives me very 
keen satisfaction.” 

“I do know,” said Helen, and when she gave him 
her hand he and Ellmer went off. 


XXX 


bob's luck turns 

C ORD WOOD snapped noisily in the rusty stove 
at White wood jail. A tin lamp hung from 
a beam and the light touched the jailer’s lined face. 
He studied his cards and pondered; Bob rested his 
arms on the table and looked moodily about. 

Streaks of resin marked the cracks in the logs and 
black drops fell from the joint where the stovepipe 
went through the room. The floor was rough, split 
lumber, and a rude bunk occupied a wall. But for 
the bars across the window, the house was very much 
a standard pattern bushman’s house, and in some 
respects Bob admitted he had no grounds to grum¬ 
ble. 

He had received Helen’s letter narrating the bar¬ 
keeper’s confession and he imagined the statement 
would satisfy the police, but he did not yet know 
what they meant to do about it. The suspense 
bothered him, because so long as he was in jail he 
could not carry out his plans for Helensville and 
speed was important. Unless he were released soon, 
the settlement must go down. Sometimes calm was 
hard, but to storm would not help. One wore one¬ 
self out like that, and when the police did let him go 
he must get to work. 


296 


BOB’S LUCK TURNS 


297 


He weighed another thing. In a sense, the magis¬ 
trate’s inquiry was a public humiliation. Some 
people thought he had killed Wilmot because the 
fellow was an obstacle, and some thought him a 
cheat. His vindication ought to be public and he 
was entitled to claim an open trial. Yet to do so 
might imply fresh delay. 

Then Bob’s glance rested on his jailer and he 
smiled. He liked old Gordon. His skin was very 
brown but his hair was going white and Bob ima¬ 
gined he got his post because the Whitewood folk 
wanted to give him a soft job. They had played 
cards for two hours and Gordon was down twenty 
cents. 

“I doubt if I can make it. When I forgot the 
ten-spot you had me beat,” he said. “Well, my 
wad’s all bills and I’ll give you half my plug.” 

He pulled out the tobacco and Bob opened his 
knife. When Gordon lost he paid, and Bob indulged 
the fellow and resolved to send him a box of cigars 
by and by. Gordon began to cut the plug and 
stopped. 

“Maybe you didn’t ought to have a big knife like 
that. I got a book of rules somewheres around.” 

“If you take my knife, I can’t get a smoke,” said 
Bob. “Then I expect your bosses at Victoria know 
the rules don’t go in the bush. For example, your 
playing cards with your prisoner!” 

“Oh, well,” said Gordon, “I certainly like a game 


298 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


and sometimes I’m two-bits up. Then a deck of 
cards is not a weapon-” 

He turned his head and Bob looked up, for a noise 
began in the street. Water splashed and gravel 
rattled. 

“Horses!” said the jailer. “Strangers I guess, 
but nothing’s doing at Whitewood, and I won¬ 
der- Maybe your friends have come back. I’ll 

get my gun!” 

“Then I wouldn’t carry a light to the door,” Bob 
rejoined and laughed, although his heart beat. He 
imagined the strangers had started from Helensville 
and he now heard wheels. 

Gordon fastened the door and went off. Bob put 
the cards in the wood-box and heard a wagon stop. 
Somebody beat on the door and Gordon from a 
window challenged the party. The voices were in¬ 
distinct, but steps on the stairs indicated that Gordon 
was satisfied and meant to admit the others. After 
a few moments he opened Bob’s door, and Helen, 
Ellmer, and Inglis came in. Gordon glanced at the 
table and when he saw Bob had removed the cards 
gave him a grateful look. Helen’s eyes sparkled and 
she held up a document. 

“I think Mr. Ellmer and Mr. Inglis were not keen 
about my joining them, but I was firm,” she said. 
“I have brought you something I would not let an¬ 
other carry.” 

She advanced with a light step, and Bob, putting 




BOB’S LUCK TURNS 


299 


his arm round her, took the order for his release. 

“You wanted to open my prison; I like to know 
you did so,” he said and gave Ellmer a smile. “I 
expect you helped my wife. This order lets me go 
now, Inglis?” 

“You can go when you like,” Inglis replied and 
gave the document to Gordon. “We have engaged 
rooms at the hotel and in the morning we start for 
the settlement.” 

Bob fetched a chair for Helen and got on to the 
ledge of his bunk. 

“We have another chair and the table. I’m sorry 
that’s all, but to some extent Inglis is accountable 
for my rude hospitality,” he said. “Well, for a 
few minutes we must talk, and to begin with I don’t 
know if I want a room at the hotel. In fact, I 
might be resigned to remain at Whitewood.” 

Helen gave him a surprised glance, but Ellmer 
smiled. Bob fixed his eyes on Inglis. 

“I expect you have been interviewed by the chief 
of police?” 

“The police did call me to Victoria,” Inglis ad¬ 
mitted with some embarrassment. “I reckoned for 
them to release you would put all straight.” 

“Then, your imagination wasn’t very keen. I 
was engaged at an important job and when you 
arrested me the job was held up.” 

“The men have cleared the factory site,” Helen 
remarked. “I gave Watson all the money I had, 


300 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


but he declared the gang wouldn’t stop because their 
pay ran out.” 

“Thank you, my dear! The boys are fine,” said 
Bob, and looking at Inglis, resumed: “To clear the 
ground for the factory and build the flume wasn’t 
all I wanted to do. I wanted to give people confi¬ 
dence, to persuade them Helensville would go ahead, 
but when the police put me in jail my usefulness was 
gone. Do you imagine business men would risk 
their money on a speculation promoted by a fellow 
charged with killing a troublesome antagonist? 
Now your plan’s to send me off quietly. You want 
to cover your mistake. But I’m a Canadian citizen 
and entitled to a public trial. Suppose I will not 
go?” 

“Your argument is pretty sound,” said Ellmer in 
a thoughtful voice. “All the same, you want to 
weigh things. I reckon you can push Helensville 
ahead, but you must get to work, and if you claim 
a trial, you force the police to put up a good fight. 
Then maybe they’d put off the trial until they filed 
their extradition claim and got after Pete. I doubt 
if they would get him, but in the meantime you 
must stay in prison and nothing’s doing at the settle¬ 
ment.” 

“That is so,” Inglis agreed. “I’ll be frank and 
admit I reckon the Victoria bosses don’t want a 
trial. Courts are not held in the bush and we don’t 
want to carry a crowd of witnesses to the cities in 


BOB’S LUCK TURNS 


301 


order to let you go. Then my notion is, the police 
are not very keen about extraditing Pete; his de¬ 
fense is pretty good. Very well! You want folks 
to know you had nothing to do with the shooting? 
The newspapers will fix it for you. The story’s 
romantic and when it’s printed folks will talk about 
you from the Rockies to the coast.” 

iC J^t the hotels, evenings!” said Bob. “I’m not 
remarkably anxious for barroom notoriety.” 

“We must get it right,” said Ellmer. “You imply 
the police are willing for us to use Pete’s state¬ 
ment ?” 

“You hold the statement,” Inglis rejoined with 
some dryness. “If you give it the newspapers, I 
don’t know that the police are entitled to meddle. 
Anyhow, they won’t meddle.” 

“Maybe his plan is good, Caverhill,” Ellmer re¬ 
marked and smiled. “If you say so, I’ll pull out for 
town and Duff will help me get somebody to write 
up a moving tale. I guess we could fix it so’s to 
give the settlement a useful push ahead.” 

Helen turned and gave Bob a gentle glance. “Per¬ 
haps you ought to agree. We don’t know the line 
a clever lawyer might take at the trial and to wait 
in suspense would be very hard.” 

“Oh, well,” said Bob, “you have borne much, and 
although I’m not satisfied, I must get busy again.” 

He got up and gave Gordon his hand and the party 
started for the White wood hotel. 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


302 

Not long after Bob returned to Shadow Lake, 
Duff and another gentleman arrived one evening at 
the homestead. Bob, meeting them on the steps, 
gave the gentleman a surprised glance. Duff smiled. 

“Mr. Alsager looked me up, and when he knew 
I was starting for Helensville resolved to come 
along.” 

Helen gave them supper and urged Alsager to 
stay at the ranch. She thought she liked Alsager; 
he was urbane and cultivated and she knew his im¬ 
portance. After supper Bob took his guests to the 
office and gave them cigars. 

“Before Duff brought me to your house I talked 
to Mr. Ellmer and went round the settlement,” Al¬ 
sager remarked. “The location’s good. I see a 
chance for industrial development in the valley, and 
Helensville occupies the keystone block. In fact, 
Maxwell’s judgment was sound. For all that, you 
want capital, and unless you can interest large in¬ 
vestors you won’t go very far. Well, I might help.” 

“At the beginning Maxwell reckoned on your 
joining us,” said Bob. “Since he claimed you let us 
down, I don’t see why you want to come in now.” 

Alsager smiled. “Maxwell made a proposition. 
I was interested, but I resolved to hold the proposi¬ 
tion over. When I speculate I bet on the location, 
the business chances, and the man who runs the 
undertaking. Well, I studied your partner and soon 
knew him for a crook.” He paused and resumed in 


BOB’S LUCK TURNS 303 

a meaning voice: “For one thing, when the locomo¬ 
tive knocked you out I was on the wharf.” 

“Ah!” said Bob, with some sharpness. “Max¬ 
well declared it was not you!” 

“Perhaps you can see his object? Anyhow, when 
I got to the steamer a crowd blocked the gangway 
and I walked about. You watched the gangway and 
perhaps did not see me turn back. Maxwell faced 
the train. He jumped and tried to pull you off the 
rails; but before he did jump he hesitated.” 

Bob’s look got very stern. He gave Alsager a 
searching glance and then nodded, as if he were 
satisfied. 

“I think I see! Duff had gone North, but I was 
about and the fellow wanted to be left alone. All 
the same. Maxwell is my wife’s brother and we must 
let it go for good. In the meantime, perhaps your 
thinking me a crook wouldn’t be remarkable.” 

“You have enlightened me on that point; Max¬ 
well did not want you about! Then a few days ago 
The Colonist printed a rather romantic narrative.” 

Bob colored. “Although I agreed to the news¬ 
papers’ getting the story, I’m not accountable for 
the shape it took. In fact, when I saw The Colonist 
I was very mad.” 

“I imagined something like that,” Alsager re¬ 
marked with a twinkle. “You, however, don’t dis¬ 
pute the statements,” 

“Did you put the people wise about my mort- 


304 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


gaging the ranch and so forth, Tom?” Bob asked 
Duff sternly. 

Duff laughed. “Not at all. My object, like yours, 
was to indicate that you had nothing to do with 
Wilmot’s getting shot. To talk about your mort¬ 
gaging the ranch was Ellmer’s notion, but the news¬ 
paper man approved. In fact, he declared the story 
was great. However, when I saw their narrative 
in print I did not get mad. After all, I’m a real 
estate agent, and I thought the story would help the 
settlement. The boys rather like theatrical ro¬ 
mance.” 

“Now we can go ahead,” Alsager remarked. “I 
want a useful factory site and I have the support of 
two or three big business men. We are willing to 
speculate on a pulp-mill and perhaps some other 
developments, but we are not keen about helping 
you carry a bankrupt settlement. To begin with, 
if you will frankly state your embarrassments-” 

Bob did so, and for a time Alsager smoked and 
calculated. Then he put up his notebook. 

“If all goes as you expect, I think the mill will 
pay and we can give Helensville a good push-off. 
For all that, I see some obstacles and our agreement 
must cover the risk. Well, my proposition is-” 

On the whole Bob was satisfied, but Duff dis¬ 
puted about particulars. At length Alsager nodded 
and lighted his pipe. 




BOB’S LUCK TURNS 305 

“That’s fixed! When we go back to town we’ll 
draft the agreement and record the sale.” 

“I think the agreement’s just,” Duff remarked 
and gave Bob a smile. “You pulled a big load and I 
came near owning we were beat; but it’s done with. 
We’re going to make good.” 

A few minutes afterwards Bob went to look for 
Helen and narrated all he thought she ought to 
know. Helen’s eyes sparkled and her glance was 
proud. 

“Oh, Bob, our luck has turned and you have con¬ 
quered!” she said. “For your sake and mine, I 
wanted you to conquer. If you were beaten, I’d 
have felt I had cheated you.” 

“Sometimes you’re ridiculous,” said Bob and 
kissed her. 

Helen looked up and gave him an embarrassed 
smile. “Perhaps I was ridiculous, not long ago, but 
Harry is my brother. Well, he is gone, and I begin 
to hope he may be a useful man. But I have got 
you and you are all I want.” 


XXXI 


PIONEERS 

F LAGS blew out in the light wind, tossed in the 
sun, and drooped. On the roof of Ellmer’s 
hotel the crosses and the silver stars shone side by 
side; the staff at Inglis’s store carried one flag and 
when it languidly unrolled one saw the gray beaver 
on the broad red field. In the street the Helensville 
band played the Maple Leaf, rather out of tune, 
until the musicians stopped to get their breath and 
the throb of the rapids rolled across the pines. 

Two or three cars waited opposite the hotel and 
when a group came down the steps the shouts from 
the crowd drowned the band. Helen and Mrs. Duff 
went in front and smiled, but Helen’s color was 
high and her glance was proud. Bob’s look was 
embarrassed and to put the ladies in the first car was 
some relief. Then he turned, as if to wait for the 
others, but Ellmer pushed him and Duff in. Al- 
sager, Inglis and two city gentlemen got in the next, 
and cars and band started for the new factory. 

Branches of pine and cedar covered the veranda 
posts, but the houses were quiet and the stores were 
shut. The Helensville folk were in the street and 

followed the automobiles. Sometimes Helen turned, 

306 


PIONEERS 


307 


and studying the crowd, recaptured her journey to 
the landing when the settlement was new. She saw 
tired men and women labor over the broken trail 
and the tractor bogged in the muskeg. Fatigue did 
not daunt the strangers; they pushed on with high 
hope and did not know the risk they ran. Then 
Helen blushed, for she remembered that Maxwell 
knew. The people had since borne much and for a 
time hope was nearly gone, but they sprang from 
stubborn pioneering stock, and although the fight 
was hard they had conquered. 

Yet Bob was accountable for their doing so and 
the triumph was really his. He had given all that 
he had, and when he gave, thought to get nothing 
back. He had planned and labored, borne the 
doubts of men he helped, and gone to prison. Bob 
was not romantic, but he was very stanch. All he 
undertook to do he did, and he had carried out 
Harry’s rash experiment. For Helensville to honor 
him was very proper. 

The cars stopped at a clearing. The logs were 
gone, the brush was burned, and at one spot be¬ 
tween rows of posts a concrete square marked the 
sawmill engine bed. At the other side was the pulp- 
factory frame, a towering skeleton of lumber and 
steel. From the staff at the top swung a rolled-up 
flag. Groups of workmen occupied the high cross¬ 
beams and chain tackles carried a heavy girder. In 
the background one saw the concrete power-house, 


308 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


and a big pipe, braced by iron standards to the rock. 
The crowd filled the clearing, the cars stopped, and 
Inglis helped Helen up the steps to a platform on the 
front of the frame. 

‘The stringers and plates are up and the boys are 
waiting for the king-brace to tie the block/’ he said. 
“Well, I stand for the Helensville citizens, and they 
sent me to state that now we are going to fix the 
last beam they reckon the job is yours.” 

He gave Helen a thin line, and for a moment she 
looked about. She saw rows of faces turned to the 
platform. Nobody moved and but for the turmoil 
of the river all was very quiet. Helen’s heart beat. 
In a sense, it was strange, but the people had chosen 
her to finish her husband’s work. Then she saw 
him smile and she pulled the line. 

An engine snorted, chains rattled, and the big 
girder slowly rose. A foreman signaled and Helen 
pulled the line again. The girder tilted, swung 
round smoothly and dropped a foot or two. Then 
hammers rang on steel and stopped, and somebody 
said, “She’s fixed. All’s fast!” 

The crowd swayed, rows of heads were tilted 
back, the band began to play the Maple Leaf, and at 
the top of the towering frame the flag blew out. 
Helen was highly strung and when she saw the red 
folds snap and get straight keen emotion carried 
her away. The beaver, carrying the cut branch, 
stood for useful effort, but above the beaver the 


PIONEERS 


309 


crosses shone. The settlement had not sprung up. 
It had cost sweat and tears and heartbreak, and now 
it stood for something, for which the crosses stood, 
that was greater than industry. Her eyes were wet, 
but when the crowd cheered she thrilled and smiled. 

Then a whistle pierced the shouts, and in the main 
street electric lights on tall standards shone a strange 
pale blue in the sun. Store windows glimmered, 
and then the lights went out and Helen faced the 
citizens. 

“All is fast; the tie is fixed/’ she said in a quiet 
voice that carried far. “The work we not long since 
hardly hoped to carry out will soon be finished and 
will stand. Perhaps you ought to have got another 
to fix the last brace, but I have done so for my 
husband, and if I have not earned your trust, you 
know him-” 

“Sure we do! We like Bob,” said one, and the 
crowd began to cheer. “ ’Rah for Caverhill!” 

Helen waited and resumed: “I have found out 
that to get one must give, and Helensville has cost 
much. Some have paid by splendid effort and some 
by bitter strain, but all have paid, and now the 
happy reckoning is come. Happy or not, I think 
the reckoning does come and we must own our 
debts. To-day I am moved, as you are moved, be¬ 
cause we share the triumph of those who get their 
just reward. I wish you good luck and the pros¬ 
perity you have fairly won!” 



310 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


They cheered, but the cheer was not noisy, for 
some were puzzled and some thought they saw a 
light. Mrs. Caverhill had helped pay for Helens- 
ville; the settlement had broken her brother. Then 
Alsager went to the platform. 

“Mr. Inglis states you are willing to hear me and 
you want to know the company’s plans. Well, the 
directors have bet high on Helensville’s prospering, 
and since we don’t like to lose, we have got to help 
you push ahead. When we have started up the 
factory, we expect-” 

For two or three minutes he talked about the 
company’s plans for founding fresh industries; and 
then paused and smiled. “I believe we’re going far 
and our part in the city is to get the money that sup- 
plies the motive power. Help like that is useful 
and we claim some reward; but before we butted in 
others had got to work. Well, I want you to think 
about the start.” 

4 

Alsager turned and giving Helen a level glance, 
resumed: “Progress implies imagination, boys, and 
in the beginning a man studied the Shadow valley. 
He saw woods and water, oats and timothy grass, a 
bunch of cattle and two or three homesteads. A 
pretty picture! On the surface, so to speak, that 
was all there was to it; but the man had talent and 
saw much others did not. He saw the water drive 
turbines, and factories grow along the bank. In 
the background was a settlement; rows of little ship- 



PIONEERS 311 

lap houses, stores, and a hotel; the settlement you 
know. 

“But the picture, like dream pictures, changed. 
The little houses, the ugly rubbish dumps, the rough 
plank sidewalks melted; and churches, schools, 
banks and office blocks got distinct. The city by the 
river was shining concrete and steel. The man was 
moved and got busy. I think we owe him some¬ 
thing, for if he did not do all he meant to do he 
cleared the ground for us. 

“When you undertake a big scheme, imagina¬ 
tion isn’t all you want. You want constructive 
talent and grit that doesn’t flinch. Well, when the 
dream was going and the cold morning broke, an¬ 
other man took control. I don’t know if he saw all 
the first saw, but he saw the obstacles and he cut 
the rocks that stopped advance. You know him, 
boys; his motto’s a square deal, his word goes, and 
he was willing to stand for his partners. Looked 
as if it would break him, but you can’t break a man 
like that. He used up his bank-roll, he mortgaged 
his ranch, he pawned all he had. He meant to see 
you out and now I reckon you’ll agree Bob Caver- 
hill made good!” 

When the cheeers died away Bob went to the plat¬ 
form. His face was red and he hesitated, but his 
glance was calm. 

“I want to thank you for the honor to my wife, 
but maybe your getting her to fix the top beam was 


312 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


justified," he said. “She believed in Helensville, 
and if I helped, I helped because she thought I 
ought. For all that, I did not build the settlement. 
You have got to organize effort, and sometimes I 
planned and sometimes, when I was forced, I 
bossed, but maybe the best I did was when I punched 
the drill. My friend who helped when all looked dark 
talked about a concrete city by the water-front, and 
if you believe in Helensville like that, you can put 
her there. But imagination's not my talent and Mr. 
Alsager carries me back to the beginning, when I 
saw the boys who did build Helensville hit the 
broken trail. 

“They carried all they'd got; the tools they meant 
to use, a few bills in their wallets. They were tired, 
but they didn't stop; they shoved along in the dust 
and they have not stopped yet. One needs imagina¬ 
tion to state where they will go. Well, the locomo¬ 
tive follows the packhorse and white men use a 
number of expensive tools, but, so long as Canada 
calls for pioneers, the ax and the saw go first." 

The crowd stormed the platform and somebody 
brought a door. Bob, unwilling and embarrassed, 
was carried in front of a cheering mob to the feast 
in the shade of the woods, but Helen, following 
with Ellmer, sometimes turned her head. The men 
who carried Bob in triumph had not long since 
wanted to carry Maxwell, in derision, on a rail. At 
the feast she gracefully played the leading lady's 


PIONEERS 313 

part, but her emotions were mixed and at length to 
steal away with Bob was a relief. 

In the evening they went to the homestead 
veranda. The green and red sunset shone behind 
the pines, but the light began to go and trails of fire 
and falling colored stars marked the rockets at 
Helensville. Mrs. Duff and her husband had not 
returned and the ranch hands were at the settlement. 
By and by Bob unfolded a paper and lighted the 
lamp. 

“When we camped for a week’s fishing, you liked 
it in the valley by the peak?” 

Helen had liked the camp. For one thing, the 
excursion marked the turning of Bob’s luck. When 
they started for the woods the strain they had long 
borne was gone. At length Bob could relax and 
Helen knew he knew her love and trust were his. 
Moreover the spot was beautiful. A stream came 
down from the snow and filled a calm green lake; 
the mountains cut the cold winds, and only the soft 
Chinook touched the peaceful hollow. 

“If there is a lovelier spot than Shadow Lake, I 
think it’s the valley by the peak,” she said. “I was 
happy at our camp. Sometimes I recapture the 
shining snow and the fresh green of the maples 
among the dark pines. I would like to go back.” 

“Where maples grow, the soil is good,” Bob re¬ 
marked with a smile and gave Helen the paper he 
had unfolded. 


314 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


Helen saw two drawings. One was the plan of a 
house. The other was the elevation, and noting the 
deep veranda, the sawn scrolls and tapered posts, 
she though it attractive. 

“The architect is clever. The rooms are spacious 
and well planned. But whose is the house?” 

“It will be ours if you are willing for me to build 
it in the peak valley.” 

“Oh, Bob!” said Helen. “You don’t mean to 
stay at the lake?” 

“If you would sooner stay, we will stay.” 

For a few moments Helen said nothing. Al- 
sager’s picture of the concrete city had some charm 
for her. She thought refinement would follow in¬ 
dustrial progress, she liked cultivated friends and 
saw herself ruling a transformed Helensville. Then 
she was ambitious for Bob, and she imagined the 
tide that had begun to flow would carry him far. 
For all that, she had before indulged her ambition 
and knew the punishment she had borne was just. 

“You are not rash,” she said. “I expect you have 
weighed things?” 

“I want you to help me weigh things,” Bob re¬ 
plied. “The ranch is mortgaged, but I can sell for 
a larger sum than I borrowed, and my shares in the 
development company will soon be worth much. In 
fact, it looks as if I might get rich, but we’ll let this 
go. Not long since I got entangled by a business 
speculation. Perhaps my luck was good, because I 


PIONEERS 


315 


was able to put all straight, but sometimes I was 
scared, and I own I’ve had enough. You see, the 
job was not my job. That’s important.’’ 

Helen saw its importance. Although Bob had 
saved Helensville, he had rather done so by stub¬ 
born courage and honesty that commanded others’ 
confidence than by talent for business. Then he 
was, unconsciously, something of a pastoral aristo¬ 
crat. He was keen to labor, but he hated to traffic. 
Well, her part was plain. Bob must follow his bent 
and she must play up. 

“My dear,” she said, “I am willing for you to 
sell the ranch.. If you are satisfied, I shall be happy 
at our new homestead.” 

Bob kissed her. “I knew your pluck, but I don’t 
want you to pay for my satisfaction.” 

“Ah,” said Helen, “I have paid for my past self¬ 
ishness, and to leave the settlement will not cost me 
much. Besides, where you go I want to go.” 

Two or three months afterward, Bob, one morn¬ 
ing, stopped Helen’s horse at the top of a steep hill. 
He carried a bright ax and his overalls were torn. 
Behind was Shadow Valley, and a row of loaded 
packhorses, guided by muscular choppers, labored 
up the hill. In front, thin mist rolled back from the 
pines clothing a deep hollow and the white peak cut 
the sky. Bob swung his ax and a small tree that 
blocked the way fell. Helen thought his clearing 
her path was somehow significant. 


316 


THE BUSH-RANCHER 


“We are crossing the height of land,’’ he said. 
“If you turn, you can see the smoke of the settle¬ 
ment; the dark trail is from the stack at the new 
sawmill.” 

Helen knew when they went down a few yards 
she would for long be cut off from all for which the 
settlement stood, but she did not turn. She had 
borne much at Helensville and was content to follow 
her husband into the quiet woods. 

“I’d sooner look in front. We go forward, Bob,” 
she said and resumed with a smile: “Like you, I 
hear the call, ‘Pioneers! Oh, Pioneers!’ ” 


THE END 







:* V v * ' * 0 /■ 

r -’ c 

y < - ** 






" » I ' Si s ft ft , ^1+ ' O N. 

\V s ^ ' O C> 

,\^ ' ' 'ft* 

^ S y - 


c%. ' S >s>j- * o; 

<?/. * 5 s 0 ’ 

c* ' v x * ' 0 f 

' r '- V V- 


v> % 

y, **• 


i- ** <s V -a aV - > y 

%. J ”» ^ <£> s , <b ** ft ft A 


* 8 I \ * ^ k 9 ’ . , ^ 

, 9 ‘ S S * * t \. 


,0 *' 

^ * s - /i 

A'% *W$ 

C<-- b 


' > —, <^vv 

- *o o x ; 

.=, , i^V / ■%. \ 

.. 5N ° v> X V tf "" 0 ^ 

* %■<■$’ 'dSM/h o ^ A 



^ « -' ;: J -a >' ' '% 1 ‘S' ^ J -4 

' tin ^/> y 0 O V ^ 46 <* / / ft ft s s *9 O y 0 ft V ^ , 

v **/o. qA , oW '* -V _, 4 > ft^ l8 « (V 

- N .^ % ° C ^^fVw,.b ^ * 0 ?^+ ° . 0° 

- 'b) 0 X l 






■J \. 


<^’ / b- 

o’’ ^ ^ " 

v> *''*“/■. 

•7-* ^ ^ 

^ > •* ' : ■ b o -> v 

</> « v . . V1 , ^ <> 





•^ v r b j>% \WiM 

\\ X ^ ,Ll». ^ ^ 0 * *> * < 0 Q N 0 . <b ft ft S S 

, 0 ;^ •< °o o°‘ ^ *+ -4 


<<• 


•■b /'■ 

C? 


•/% ’••■#.•■.» 

,o v 


sf; '^ o o x t % 

^. c* v ^ v ° 0 /■ > 

b. > Vc<* 

7 - * 

1 ? 


«y be, J n 



r -b. »m 


x \>‘ 'b>. a V/MV 



V"»'- 

V v ft V 8 ^ _ / 0 

« ❖ 


^ ° C. * ^r- 

x <>• V _ cx>vJ 

o o v 

2 s ’ ° «A ■*+ ' * \° °-t- * 

«' / %■ *» v -<<’O 0 o .” o 

-N. s s ft , , ^ ^ 0 N 0 ^ ^ 


, ^ .0 N 0 ■ r> . . 

a - V ^ ^ 0 /• > \0 

%> v. % & «*r * 



a\ 


%-e, i> 





S ft 


- 4_ J 'N V — \ * 

» z -f 'Zra^vvv - 

,\V </> _ V/ w?v.' v * c. z< 

; # ' 


















V » o 


ft ft 


\ I ft 


1 y ' s Ky«3* J ft o ft ^ C'/yi- <"> 

, V '>«•’ / % *■».,,*' <o 5 

^ V * ' * 0 * > ,0' s v ** r * c> V * 1 ■ ” A 

i-.w .-mv. :£&■.%# .*m 

O 


A> ,/> 4 £ / v,A ® c. 

.A' v\ © a/ vjs \\v * s°y 

b '>y v K/ ’>£A\N ^ v, ■> 


V ^'VV'V 

^ 7 0 * ,K * ^0 

,cy C 0 N G 



*'* W A N ( ^ 6 <t ^ \ ^ .In 

- 0 k t 0 ' * <£> A x « V ' 8 « o 

0 * r-^w v . y ^ v 

\ »\’^|yV- a..v -JSlP-A. ■*■ • 

• ... -f~-*.. A '■ o o 

X 0 A * .* V 'V^sa-gr 

> NA ^ ^ ^A/''yi'^r s 

O » rv» i. C'tA' . ^ 


O' 






> V" 


, 0 o. 


• N , 0 ° °o ^ * 

<V* sS”/^ ^c- ° N ° V X * * ' * 0 / "> 

X' ' ✓ -P b o C. * 



N/> AV 

</> ,^V 



A * 


rv. . \ v yy >7; 

% *<*> - ' i L <v </*- 

5 x. a ^ -V ,p. ^ - 

s . cP «. 

A . v / ,S y\ o 

4 > T ^* YH 0 w G ,, ^ ^ * A\ \ 1 ft /, V'* 

* <o rv c -y \S> «. <* * (D 

-1 Ao {'>> * ~ry. <* -p 'V 

■P K ^ j.\ ^ uJlf . . 

* jfll^ »- 

_ 7W .: x°°- 

’’J'WCsNS' > vv T ^-. <#• 'km o- ^ > A 

✓ N K>i J * O • ri- 4, ^ C* / N> <S^ <■ O - 

, 4 ^»’ y *>, *.M*'b 0 ' s*» r A- ^so’ / 

'/ o v v ^' * 0 / ^ » 9 V * s /w^ ^ ca v * 

v ^ ^ - v ^ ^ ^ 5 , 





vV 



,V x 
-$» A * 

° % V 

z ? z 

o T/ 




A 




u> 



* * 


*'* - -K/ > 5 &AF * v; 

y ■^'■pjrs? * ' O. * €T » -a oV 

v * * s s % . v \ x v I 8 y 0 * k ^ t 0 N C 

A ■* '' ' *-< °o o 0 ' -W/ a 
"a ^ ~o& "a v 

- A> ' 7 ^. » ^ - - ■ * * 

% *"'' . aN0 v^*’**. > Ap'** 

i 8 ' A ,v .vyp «. sP * 

A A - °. A v “ 



,* x° °„ 


j: A % \W^: / % : .^p 

. s A .O / -iv I 4 ^ *t . s 


P> A. » V 

'A V k ^- V? ^ r^* 

V- * 

y o « 




A ^ 

Ji -.8 

.'J- 























































































